SwordBearer: Angelique Du Orleans
by Hecate's Kiss
Summary: Part of Vega's Highlander AU SwordBearer series. Angelique Du Orleans is dealing with being a known quantity. She'd really love it if somebody would just let her hide her sword again, and apparently its Old Friends Week for her, in the worst possible way. Rating it at M early for death, gore, etc. Its a Highlander Universe after all.
1. Background

The Standard Disclaimer applies. I own nothing related to Highlander. I sometimes wish I did, but alas. I am merely a fan creating my own characters to play in this reality.  
+ + +

Secondary Disclaimer : I do not own the first chapter. That belongs to Vega. I am merely a guest writing in Vega's AU called SwordBearer. There are several stories. The original that led to this collective AU can be found under the name SwordBearer by Arkaidy.

The only requirement Vega gave was that I use the first chapter. I have left it as I found it. All other characters that are not Highlander Cannon or Vega's are mine. Basically that means? Chapter Two forward is all original material from HK.

Chapter One: Backdrop

In March of the year 2005, FBI agent Harold G. Myers is shot between the eyes. Upon delivery of the corpse to the morgue at the Pentagon - a short stop over between the site of death and the hometown where the bachelor was to be buried - Agent Myers proceeds to sit up, apologize profusely to the resident pathologist for startling him, and begs the doctor not to 'tell'.

Unaware of the surveillance camera that captures the event, Myers goes on to explain to the startled mortician that he is in fact a human being with a specific genetic defect, known to his kind only as "An Immortal". Myers, due to some freak sequencing of his genetic structure, has an immune system so efficient that his body is in a perpetual state of renewal, rather than the mortal state of perpetual decay.

Myers professes to being over three hundred years old. The pathologist swears to secrecy and aids Myers in his escape. He is arrested three days later.

In April, the Federal Bureau of Investigations captures the fugitive Agent Myers and submits him to extensive interrogations and testing, resulting in the accidental 'permanent' death of Myers upon decapitation, and the destruction of most of the information gathered on Immortality in the resulting backlash of energy bombardments that surge from the body of Myers and rip through the compound.

Before the FBI can repair the lab and uncover more test subjects, a secret international society known as the "Watchers" come forward and reveal their extensive tomes of research and libraries to the United States Government. All testing on Immortals ceases within legal circles.

The next four months are spent in secret talks with the major political figureheads of all the countries of the world, and this mysterious "Watchers" organization. No information on the discussions themselves is revealed to the mass media.

In August of 2005, the United Nations releases an official statement to the world: There Are Immortals Among Us.

Believing that this new era of multimedia and informations technology is straining the survival of the Immortal Species, the Watchers oust themselves and their subjects. Specific names and information is not distributed, although the chronicles of deceased Immortals do become available in published novel form. Many history text books are re-written.

The backlash is minimal. Several religious groups oppose the existence of Immortals and there are witch hunts in several major cities and some remote countries. The United Nations declare Immortals 'Human Beings' under the law and any formal persecution is ceased.

A disturbingly high rate of violent suicides follow, as mortals attempt to trigger their latent Immortality - less than 2% actually become Immortal. Before laws are required to keep this in check, the pattern dies away.

Immortals who do not approve of their new public personas either arrange for friends to decapitate them, or find ways of releasing their own Quickenings. Immortals with extensive criminal records are hunted by the law and turned over to the Watchers, who then select suitable vessels to receive their Quickenings.

The Game continues, although many Immortals no longer feel the need to participate.

An 'International Immortal Government' is formed in January of 2006, and in March of that same year, all Immortals are issued "Identification of Immortal Status" cards. These cards act as Age of Majority Cards for Immortals who appear younger than they are, and allow Immortals who had been hiding behind mountains of falsified documents to reclaim their original identities, and in some cases, fortunes. A small cut on the thumb is required as proof of Immortality for those skeptical of the Card's verity - for this reason, very few Fake Immortal Ids are employed by teenagers.

One Duncan McLeod, an Immortal of approximately four hundred years, becomes Avatar of Brotherhood between Immortal and Mortal Humans. Universities all over the world begin to seek out Immortals to teach their History and Language classes. Sword-smith shops spring up in all the major cities.

March 26th, the day of the True Death of Harold G. Myers is declared an International Holiday.

Guidelines for Appropriate Challenges are issued in June of 2006 as the number of deaths by electrocution rise alarmingly when mortals attempt to witness battles in The Game. Formal Combat Areas are established in most major cities to keep watching Mortals at a safe distance.

Violent crimes rise in many North American cities as Mortals posing as Immortals utilize blades to commit robberies, muggings, etc.

To counter act this rise in crime, in October of 2006 a law is passed by the United Nations requiring all weaponry must be worn on in plain sight, and may only be carried by Card-Carrying Immortals. At first there is opposition to this. One Adam Peirson, an Immortal of approximately thirty five years of age, citing the lynches of the previous year, lobbies that the Visible Weaponry Law would make Immortals targets to Hate Groups.

Punishments regarding Racist Crimes are increased, and Peirson backs down.

As of midnight, October 17th, 2006, all Immortals must wear their weaponry in plain sight. Failure to do so will result in a five year prison term.


	2. Being Watched & Coffee

Chapter Two : Being Watched and Coffee

Standing in line for coffee, she grimaced slightly and needlessly adjusted the cuffs of the crisp, cherry red oxford she wore. The hilt of the celtic knot worked short sword was settled on her left hip. Every eye was going from her face, down to the sword in its plain black sheath, and then back up to her face. Stupid Visible Weapons Law. She raked her right hand through her dark curls, tousling them to fall around her shoulders, but had to agree with Pierson, he was right - it did make her a target.

She hated it. Her reaction, the one ingrained by her teacher, was to cover the hilt somehow, even though she had tucked her shirt into the black slacks deliberately. She sighed again, and glared at the person that was apparently dithering over whether or not to get a raspberry danish or not. She tapped her blunt nailed fingers idly against the hilt of the sword, a gentle motion that was habit, and typically disguised by the fact the sword was in a coat, and the hand was in a pocket.

"Buddy, hurry up before she decides to get really annoyed. She does have a sword after all." A wit farther back in the line called up to the blonde man that appeared to be in his mid thirties and was wearing a dark gray business suit and a white collared shirt. The undecided party turned sharply, ready to snarl something at the wit, and then paled as he realized the woman standing behind him in line was standing with her weight resting on her left leg, right hip cocked and one hand idly tracing the pomel of the sword as she waited. His brown eyes widened in shock, after sweeping over her pressed shirt and neat slacks clad frame and then locking on the sword. She kept her expression neutral even as an amused grin twitched just under the surface and lit her dark eyes. She had forgotten about that part of the reaction. It had been a few centuries since she'd openly worn a blade.

"Angelique! Be nice to the poor guy. What can I get you?" Becca, her typical barista asked, her short red hair spiked with gel, and her blue eyes as friendly as ever, not even seeming to notice the old accessory strapped prominently to her left hip.

"Give me a cherry bear claw, and an extra tall, triple shot, mocha truffle with whip."

"All right. Eight ten please. And I like the sword. Pretty, is that your usual Celtic stuff? Like your necklace?" Becca asked as she slipped the bear claw onto a folded square of wax paper, and turned away to quickly made the drink

Angelique picked up the bear claw, laying a ten on the counter, then self consciously brought her left hand up to touch the twist of silver wire that formed outline of a raven, wings formed of twisting never-ending loops of silver, spread to fly, nestled in the hollow of her throat.

"Yeah, it is. But I've had the sword longer."

"Well, I always knew you had a thing for Ravens. Leons-Raven, after all." Becca said as she turned back around and handed Angelique her drink. Angelique glanced down as she reached out with her free left hand for the drink. Her eyes locked onto the woman's bare right wrist as she saw the black circle with the stylized W bisecting it.

"Not wearing your bracelet today, Becca? Too bad. See ya tomorrow, Watcher. Keep the change." Angelique said, the tip of her dark head respectful as she stepped away from the counter and headed for the door. She clearly heard the swift intake of breath from the female Watcher and barista behind her. Her lips curved into a slightly ironic smile. She had spotted the tattoo almost three months ago, when she first got into town.

Angelique knew that Becca was not her Watcher. She'd had a man named Jeffry Richland following her for the past several years. She had realized what he was after the third time she had noticed him in a crowd after she had altered her typical pattern by going out to a bar on a Thursday night. She had even bought her Watcher a drink. She smiled slightly at that memory as she stepped through the door, taking a sip of her coffee. She glanced across the street and took another drink to cover her smile, she recognized another familiar, young face.

The Paulsen family had been Watching her off and on for the past forty years. First the grandfather, Micheal, then the father James, and unless she missed her guess, the newest man leaning against a wall reading a comic book was the middle boy, Samuel. She checked the street for cars and then jogged across, taking quick bites of the bear claw and alternating with sips of coffee.

"Hey Rick! Hand me a copy of the Daily-Standard? Need to check my portfolio." Angelique said as she balanced the paper wrapped bear claw on top of her coffee and dug out the cash to pay for a copy of the daily paper. She took the paper and tucked it under her arm to finish off her bear claw. Licking her fingers clean, she flipped open the paper to Section C and then folded the paper down so that she could see exactly the stocks she was looking for.

"So, why do you still buy a paper from me? Everyone else checks these things at night, on the news." Rick asked as he re-arranged his stock, silvered hair curling out from under his Baltimore Oriels cap.

"Well, I do buy the paper for more than just the stocks. I like the comics, and the daily horoscope. Occasionally the classifieds." She responded, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. One of her stocks was down for the fifth consecutive day.

"Bad stock?" Rick asked, blue eyes twinkling as he tugged on his cap.

"One of them qualifies. I'll make sure to get rid of it before the market closes today. You have a good one, Rick. I'll-" She stopped and slowly turned, she felt the Presence of another Immortal near by. She scanned up and down the street, slowly setting the cup of coffee behind her on the stand, along with the paper as she placed her right hand on the sword hilt in a cross grip. Her shoulders relaxed from their rigid almost military posture as she recognized the man walking towards her, hands held out at his sides. She took two steps forward, hand lifting off the hilt and greeted him with a hug.

When he released her, she took both his hands and kissed the backs of them solemnly, a show of respect. She smiled slightly when he kissed her palms. They hadn't publicly greeted each other in that fashion in centuries.

"Its good to see you, Maxwell." Angelique said quietly as she stepped back a pace or two and then gave her back to the other Immortal as she picked up her coffee and paper. She was well within his draw radius, and could pull her own blade before he could twist free the claymore from its sheath, which was designed to open sideways as well as a normal draw.

"And you, my Angel." He responded, brushing a lock of her dark hair over her shoulders. She looked into his blue eyes and frowned slightly, head tipping to the right as she studied him. He had at least four inches over her own five foot six, sandy blond hair, cropped short, and wore a claymore, sheathed across his back. And his eyes were gaping holes of grief in an otherwise calm face. Her stomach dropped and the sip of coffee she had just taken turned to ash on her tongue.

"I wasn't expecting you. I've been the only Immortal here for a few months." Angelique said with a shrug, forcing herself to mask her unease.

"I have been searching for you." He said, slipping easily into Latin.

"And why have you, my teacher?" She asked quietly, sliding into the language she had learned from him. Her right hand calmly fell to her hilt again, yet she stayed where she was. This man was a friend, had been a lover, and had also been her second teacher.

"To hold you to your oath, my Angel. Gwen is gone, and I've hunted down her killer. What more is there for me here?"

Angelique paled and swayed for a moment, the knife sharp slap of overwhelming grief attempting to dig itself into her heart and twist. She forced her lungs to work and choked back the howl of denial. Gwenna, _her_ Gwen, her student, her friend of two hundred years, pulled from a poor house in London gone.

Angelique slipped back into English, "She was my best friend and now you want me to send you to her?" Her hand spasmodically clenched down on the sword hilt. She continued with a ragged inhale, "You want _me_ to hold you both? Damn it, Max. I never wanted this. Not you, not her. God above, I wanted you both _here_ for longer. Tell me who at least. I want to know which nightmares I will be replaying for the next decade or two."

"Some wretch by the name of William of Kent. About three centuries younger than Salisbury. And you promised me if ever I was tired -"

Angelique just nodded and closed her eyes. She knew exactly how old Mathew of Salisbury was and what he was up to. She and he had politely crossed paths about a decade before while he was working for the FBI and she had been working in a coffee shop near the Bureau.

"When would you like to meet me at the Arena then, my teacher?"

"My affairs are in order, my Angel. I only came looking for you to ask."

"We are with in three blocks of the Arena now. Tronby Park is between here and there. Its Holy Ground. A Druidic circle meets there every alternate Thursday. Or there's the Unitarian Church, White Dove, if we go over a block more to our east. If you want to speak to a pastor, I know I'd like to before hand."

"Trust you to know where every scrap of holy ground is. And I'd like that. Let your Watcher know and I'll let mine, meet at the Church then?"

"As you will." Angelique said before he stepped back, turned and walked towards a late model brown sedan. Angelique stepped away from Rick, who was simply staring in shock. She turned to her Watcher with a sad smile as the remainder of her coffee landed in the trash next to the news stand.

"So, Samuel I'm betting you got all of that?"

"Wha-" The young man spluttered, comic book slipping from his fingers as he stared at her in shock. The look that flickered over his face was classic _busted_.

"I attended two thirds of your baseball games when you were in middle school, high school, and in college. I did that to make certain your father got to attend them. I paid for his hotel suite when you guys won the State Championship in high school. You are the third generation of your family to Watch me. Your family has a code of honor that I liked a hell of a lot more than that lout Richland. He broke in one night and I almost skewered the ass when I got home." The sardonic smile that graced her face at that memory made the youngest Paulsen choke on a laugh.

"I have the feeling I just cleared something up for you. I'm headed to White Dove, and then to the Arena. Call it in, or whatever you need to do. I need to call Macleod." Angelique said before she turned away and pulled out her cell phone.

As she walked towards her car she punched in a number she had memorized over a year ago.

"Macleod and Nash Antiquities, Duncan speaking. How may I help you today?"

"Duncan. Its Angelique Du Orleans. Maximus of Londinium just called in my oath. I figured he's probably already set up a notification with you about this. So I figured I'd give you a call."

"Angelique, I'm sorry. Yes. He called me yesterday and told me he was calling in the favor. I gave him your city. Sorry about Gwen. Have somebody call me please after? I'd like to know -"

"I will Duncan. Don't worry about that. Talk to you later. Watch your head." Angelique slipped into the car, and then tossed her phone next to her sword and swore. She wanted, no needed, a few minutes to grieve. She didn't have that luxury though. Not with what was coming, so she pushed it out of her mind, the way Alex and Max had both taught her.

Her next call was to work, telling them she would be in at least an hour later than usual, and that she would explain everything then. She then put the car in drive and headed for the church.


	3. In the Arms of the Angel

Chapter Three : In the Arms of the Angel

Angelique felt peace settle over her as she walked through the doors of the White Dove Church. She slipped into the back pew, her fingers skimming gently over the hymnals. She sank down onto the hard wood and folded one hand over the other as she bowed her head to pray. She knew Max was already somewhere in the building. The thrum of his Presence against her own was unmistakable. She took a breath and then closed her eyes.

The gentle hand on her shoulder caused her to startle and twitch. Her head came up sharply and her hand reflexively fell for her sword even as she remembered she was _safe_ on holy ground. She met the compassionate eyes of one of the two pastors of White Dove, Reverend Lydia Rothe and a tear escaped her careful control.

"I'm sorry, Reverend. I didn't mean -"

"Its all right. Tim is already talking to the gentleman that came in five minutes ago. He said to expect you on his heels. Would you like to go to my office? Or would that bring you two too close?" The blonde woman asked, crow's feet and laugh lines working along her gray eyes and framing her mouth.

"Yeah, we are both singing on each other right now. It might be better for us to even out. Your office is still sound proof after all."

Angelique followed the pastor up a flight of stairs to the second floor and the little attic space rooms that were the church offices. She felt Max's quickening settle out as she passed Reverend Timothy's door. She knew Max had just gone unnaturally still on the other side. She swallowed hard and slipped into Lydia's small sanctum.

"The sword explains a few things. I won't ask you about that right now, since you seem rather upset. Do you want to tell me about this?" Her left hand waved toward her co-pastor's office and his closed door as she shut her own. She wordlessly offered tea and the dark haired immortal shook her head. The woman sank into the chair behind her desk and just waited.

Angelique paced like a caged tiger for a few seconds, trying to get her thoughts put together in some semblance of coherence. She decided to start where it was hurting most.

"I've known him for a little over five hundred years, Reverend. He's my best friend, he was a teacher, and I still love him. And he wants me to- God! He wants me to end it and take his Quickening. He just lost his wife of sixty years. He avenged her, and is now asking -" She shuddered and wrapped icy hands around her torso, swaying slightly on her feet.

"He's asking you to help him commit suicide?" The question was calm, no hint of shock or judgment, just clarification.

"Yes. It was something we promised each other. His teacher had gone mad, took a bad quickening. Had to be hunted down. He didn't ever want that to happen to him."

"You made a pact. Why not one of his other students? You said he was your teacher. I didn't think Immortals killed their teachers?"

"If we are challenged, we will fight. Even if it _is _our Teacher. It hurts when that is the case, but it will be done if it must be. After all, there can be only one." She sighed, "I am of the line of Marcus Constantine. He is not. He was more of a second teacher. Somebody I met after I left my original teacher. He polished some of what Alex had taught me, and taught me a few more moves. We were friends and lovers. Most of his students know about me. And about the pact."

"You said he recently lost his wife?"

"I knew Gwenna for almost two hundred years. She was my student. I taught her. And I failed her. And now he wants to end it all. Over a thousand years he's walked this world and he had sixty years with Gwen and now he's asking for me to fulfill an oath. My hands would be the ones to kill him for good. My blade, my skill. How can I do this? I'd carry him with me for the rest of my life. And Gwen."

"Are you looking for absolution?"

"I'm trying to figure out how I can deal with him on his knees in front of me with my blade at his throat. I can't kill in cold blood. I can't just strike. I've only played the Game when challenged. I've never gone hunting. Though, I would have made an exception for Gwen's killer if Max hadn't been able or willing to."

"This is tearing you apart. Could he ask one of his students?"

"He could. It would take him a while to find one. I left instructions with MacLeod to hand out my city if Max came calling for it. Max and I both have files with Duncan. Kind of an Immortal "in case of emergency" type of arrangement. More like, if "I lose my head, this is what to do with my funds and property" deal."

"Why does it have to be you?"

"Because I want her to survive, Priestess." Max said from behind Angelique. She turned to face him.

"You think your quickening will be enough to ensure I last a while longer? I could lose my head tomorrow, damn it. Even with yours. It didn't save Marcus. And I've lived for over five hundred with Alexis' and your teachings."

"And MacLeod avenged Constantine's death. He is strong. You know what my teacher always told me : Live, grow stronger, fight another day. I want that for you, my Angel. I hunted, I taught my students. I want you to survive. Gwen wouldn't want to be anywhere else if she couldn't be with me. You were her choice as well."

"If I'd taught her better -"

"No. He ambushed her and took her head while she was dead. He didn't play fair. Neither did I when I took him. I poisoned my blade and then slashed him to ribbons. He was in agony as he lost his head. Give what you are given. Honor had no place in that fight. It is not murder for me, but a mercy."

Angelique dragged in a breath, forcing herself to have enough air as her heart squeezed painfully. "May I have a last hug then, here on holy ground?"

He stepped into her embrace. She held him gently, tears running down her face, soaking his shirt. Uncaring about the audience, she still strangled the sobs but the shudders of pain she allowed to flow through her. When he pulled back and kissed her gently on the forehead, she straightened and wiped at her eyes. She almost sobbed when he pressed a Celtic Cross wrought in silver into her hands.

"I'll meet you at the Arena. Half an hour. It'll give us both time to settle. Thank you, my Angel."

"Max? Does Duncan have all of your arrangements and the like?"

"Yes. I'll tell you now though. New Orleans Number One, cremated please. And next to Gwen."

"I'll see that its done." She nodded shortly, and then watched him walk away, his presence fading out as he descended the stairs. Once she heard the sanctuary doors thud shut below her, she sagged against the door frame and allowed the tears to pour again, still silent.

"I wish we could do something to ease this." Lydia said, one hand rolling a polished chunk of quartz back and forth in her hands.

"The only thing I can do is shatter my heart and fulfill the oath. He's tired. He's also never been afraid of death. He once said that Death had been his teacher." She shook her head, and smiled slightly, remembering the twinkle in his eye as he had delivered that line, and had then promptly stabbed her through the heart.

"He then stabbed me, dropped me instantly. When I woke up I never made the mistake of taking my attention off an opponent again. Even if I was enjoying the story."

"He killed you? Why?" Timothy asked, running a hand through his red curls as he leaned against the other side of the door frame.

"To teach me a lesson, Reverend. A friend can one day become an enemy. Even in being taught he wasn't afraid of using death to teach. As I learned moves and how to counter them I died repeatedly. His greatest amusement was in getting me to figure out how to counter him and put him down for a bit. I cannot count how many times he got up off the floor swearing at me in Latin for destroying yet another patch of the floor. As if my blood wasn't as liberally spattered around. He would then come at me again, coated in blood, blade still marred, barely able to stand. I still remember one evening where I managed both sword and dagger. I put him to ground and then shoved the dagger through his heart just to give myself time to _rest_."

The look on Lydia's face was sheer horror and shock. Angelique shook her head. "Lydia, its not like he was really dead, as soon as I removed the thing he'd have been back on his feet." She wiped her face and took a breath, explaining how it was.

"The more damage done to a body, the longer we are down. The quickening cannot heal around something that's keeping you dead. And honestly, I'd rather be dead while somebody is resetting a leg that broke in four or five places due to a fall; or a multiple punctured lung that somehow missed my heart, or having various internal organs regrow bits. It hurts far worse to revive midway through only to break or re damage the thing again and die again. I've kept Immortal friends dead long enough to reset bone or to give time for various nasty things to heal. Its a lot less painful if all you feel is the crunching flare of it breaking and not the fire laced gouge of your spleen stitching itself back together as you die of sepsis from a ruptured intestine. Been there, done that, really don't ever want to do it again."

"I can imagine why not. Ow. But you usually only feel what killed you when you revive?"

"In reverse, so any damage an immortal took in the fight or fall or whatever killed you is also replayed briefly. I've gotten used to it. Max taught me to take pain and fight through it. If the strike isn't instantly killing for a mortal, I can fight through until the healing can take care of it, or my opponent loses his or her head. If I can't? I'm dead, permanently."

The two pastors seemed to think that statement over briefly before Lydia shook herself and set down the crystal she had been manipulating. "Are you the only Immortal in town, other than your friend? Or will we be looking through the Sunday crowd and finding a few more?"

"Right now, I'm the only one in town and based here. As I've said before, I don't hunt. I only deal with the Game when somebody comes after me. You may occasionally run into a few more Immortals that are passing through. We are safe here though. This is holy ground. We do not fight here as a rule. We used to use churches as safe places, a refuge, or as a place to negotiate challenges – where and when. Now the where is taken care of and only the truly insane would dare attempt a challenge outside of a Sanctioned Combat Area. The fines are pretty nasty." Her smile was malicious as she thought of what had been reported for the last fine, and the fact the man had lost his head after being shot, trussed like a turkey and dragged to a dome similar to the old Arena.

"Play by the rules or pay for it?"

"Exactly. And that's what I have to go do now. Thank you both. You settled me enough to do this. I'll most likely see you this Sunday. Or you can come visit me at the museum."

"We will be here if you need us. Find peace."

Angelique smiled slightly at the statement as she walked down the stairs. She doubted she would find peace, especially not when she went not to praise her friend, but bury him.

* * *

Author's Note: I realized last night that I hadn't clarified something, and will do so here now, and make is clearer in the remaining chapters. Angelique's original name is Angelique Du Orleans or Angelique of Orleans. The name she is using at current is Angelique Leons-Raven. It is what her current degrees and such hold, so she's staying with it.

And for those that recognized who Maximus' teacher is, no he will not be appearing here. At the moment I believe he's busy at a college in Canada.


	4. Shattered

Chapter Four : Shattered

She'd tossed her dark head a few times and knew the hair pins would not slip in the middle of fighting. Her hair, braided tight and pinned under, would give an opponent no chance of an opportunistic handhold. Angelique stamped a foot lightly, and the heavy steel toed black boots checked off as comfortable and solidly _on_. She'd nearly lost her head in 1732 when a boot had come undone and spilled around her ankle. She'd stumbled, side stepped automatically and avoided the slash that would have otherwise taken her head if she'd fallen. Now she made certain before stepping forward. Hell, she made certain before she stepped out the door every morning, but checking before a fight was ingrained habit.

She still wore the red oxford shirt with the cuffs fastened down, and the black slacks. Anything she wore, she chose with the eye to be able to fight in it. One never knew when an idiot would challenge then and there and demand satisfaction post haste. That meant whatever she was in would allow for full range of motion and would not trip her on bad ground.

The sword belt and sheath were in the hands of her Watcher, along with her cell phone and keys. She'd destroyed quite a few key fobs and cell phones due to quickenings in the past. She really didn't want to have to walk into a dealership or a cellphone store and explain why she needed a new one. As if the sword alone wouldn't be reason enough. An ironic smile flitted across her features as she wondered if taking a quickening would count as an act of God and there by void the replacement of both phone and keys.

The shining length of steel settled comfortably in her right hand, as familiar to her as a lover and at times the blade had been her only friend. She swung it slightly back and forth, listening to it sing as it sliced the air. She could feel presence up ahead and growing stronger as she walked down the corridor. She swung the blade again and then brought it to ready, held angled across her body and point up to guard her throat and torso.

The precaution proved unnecessary, for Max stood at center field sword resting point down on the turf. She nodded slightly and he smiled. She looked up, and around, looking into the stands and taking note of the position of the sun. She spotted her Watcher and the woman that had to be her friend's. They were the only two in the stands, for which she was grateful. Even knowing she would be fighting before eyes that were used to the idea of a Quickening, it was still mildly disconcerting.

She took a deep breath and nervously sucked on her bottom lip for a moment, eyeing the goal posts. She was pretty sure that they were metal. She'd been in town for three months and hadn't fought a challenge in that time. The last time she'd been through, there hadn't even been a football field, hell, there hadn't been cars either. She paused at the edge of the track and inclined her head out of respect to the space they were about to use. She then stepped into the grass.

"A problem my Angel?" Max asked, not lifting his sword, even though hers was at guard.

"Just wondering how well those goal posts will take the shock of a quickening. They are the tallest thing here, and we've got the track between us and the stands. Just worried about mortal witnesses. Kandrika's quickening screwed over two city blocks, she was half my age."

"But she was a headhunter. She resonated like somebody three times your age."

"So be it. They know the risks after all. And if they haven't thought about the fact they are sitting on metal, they deserve to be jolted."

"True. Have at me." So saying he lifted his sword and swung, blindingly fast. Angelique deflected and dodged, having seen the move coming from the way he took a slight step back, preparing himself to pick up the seven pound weight of the claymore.

The ring of steel on steel was as familiar as the words of her first teacher flooded back, "_Focus on the hands and how your opponent moves. Not on where the sword is from second to second. Watch the blade, miss a move, and lose your head."_ She had a pretty good idea of his reach from that first move and the power of his impact from deflecting half the swing. She remembered that from when she used to spar with him regularly. Her fingers stung and her shoulders ached already. And she knew it was only half the impact she'd absorbed.

_Gods he's nasty_, was her only thought as she sidestepped again, circling to the left. She knew he'd fall into the circling pattern, it would give him a chance to study her, as she was taking to study him, watching his body, his hands, and his eyes. His right hip shifted, his hands tightened on the hilt, and she flung herself low and struck, ducking as the claymore whistled overhead, moving in an unavoidable path. She felt her blade gouge a furrow across his right pectoral muscle, but she kept moving, knowing that she was inside his swing radius. She flung herself sideways as the blade came singing back. Fire ripped across the back of her shoulder blades, as the point caught her and ripped through her skin.

She spun on her heel knowing she needed momentum if she was going to be able to answer his blade with her own. She heard the blade again and folded herself back, watching the blade pass for a second above her head, then she was back upright and thrusting, weight, momentum, and skill all shoving forward for a disabling strike. He stepped aside, and she slid by him, unbalanced and exposed.

Max's own voice screamed in her memory, _"Never give your back to an opponent! Do that and you will lose your head. Turn damn you!" _She wrenched herself around, hearing and feeling the blade coming for her. Her left shoulder went numb as the blade impacted, flat of the blade used like a battering ram, fracturing her arm.

Her right hand went white around the hilt of her blade as her left slid off, nerveless and unresponsive. She forced her body to respond as she hooked her left hand into the back of her slacks. She needed to give the arm time to heal. She only knew of one way, and she lunged forward, going high this time, across his body, risking the blade.

It landed. Squarely in his left shoulder. She twisted and yanked, the sound of effort falling unnoticed from her lips as she tore a bloody swath from the shoulder and knew he would have to resort to one handed use of the heavy sword until his arm could heal. She also came away with a slice along her torso, having stepped into the blade to deliver the cut. She'd been so close he hadn't had time to do more than attempt to block with the flat.

She flexed her left hand as she dropped her point briefly and slashed with the blade, keeping him off balance. She tore another line of blood across his right thigh. Her hand was still numb, which meant her arm was still not quite there. She leapt back as he swung again, left hand re-enforcing his swing. The block attempt was instinctive, and instead of the ring of steel meeting steel she heard her sword scream. She flinched as her blade shattered halfway along the length.

_Have to end this now, _ was the only thought, and again she closed, this time taking a quick running step, pivoting her weight down on her left foot as her right rose up, everything in her going into the kick she launched at his throat while he was wide open.

She grimaced as she felt the steel toe of the boot crush larynx, adam's apple, esophagus and fracture spine. She felt him shudder, saw the light flicker in his eyes and die as he slid from his feet to topple to the side. The completion stroke was automatic, and his head slid from his body even as her own cry left her throat. The glint of a cross and the spray of blood were etched into her memory.

She dropped to her knees and had a second to look at the body of her friend as the blue mist rose. She grounded the broken blade and forced herself upright. She would not take this hunched over her blade. She would take it head up and shoulders as square as possible. The first strike of lightning blinded her and set her nerves alight in sheer flaring agony, pleasure, and grief.

x X x

"Angelique? Angelique?" The voice was familiar, and she forced her breathing to slow, her throat was raw, her nerves were raw, and her mind... her mind was a smoking wasteland. She opened her eyes and looked up at the young man that stood in front of her, holding a scabbard. For a moment he was just a man, no memory matched his face to a name, and then it clicked in. Samuel. Watcher. Yours.

"I'm okay, Sam. Cell phone?" Her voice was a raven's scratchy call. She swallowed and shivered, then looked down at her blade and grimaced, doing her best not to look at Max's body which was right next to her.

"I've never seen anyone take a quickening that close, oh my god." That voice she didn't know. Her eyes were hard as she glared at the other Watcher who was cowering at the edge of the field. Angelique's fingers were balled around something.

"It fucking hurts. It hurts more when its somebody you loved. Damn you Max. Now I want nothing more than a good white wine and circus peanuts? Ewww." That thought of flavor combinations along with the violent jolt of an unsettled quickening caused her to twist aside, shove herself to her feet and stagger three steps away and then heave into the grass, sicking up the coffee and bear claw.

"Um... that's..." She shot a glance at Samuel, who was decidedly green. She wasn't sure whether it was the thought of the combination of white wine and circus peanuts, the fact he'd just watch her hark up her breakfast, a dead headless body, or a combination of all three. She dragged her left sleeve across her mouth and spat.

"Revolting is the word I'd use. Anyone see a faucet of some sort? These complexes always have one. I want to rinse my mouth out now, not later."

The unknown Watcher gave a small squeak. Angelique pivoted and stalked towards the green painted faucet that was caged in protective padding. She yanked up the handle with her free hand and water sputtered out with a rattle and then ran with a gush onto the track. She shoved her hands under the stream, scrubbing furiously, glancing to make certain the blood was off, and realized she held the gold cross she'd given Max three centuries ago. The grief choked her again, she used her free hand and then brought water to her mouth and spat it out again. She ignored the Watcher and tried to ignore the shivers that roared through her body, or the tears that rolled down her cheeks.

"How long was I down?" She asked, slapping the water off, hearing iron click against iron as the spigot shut off and shaking out her hands as she realized her slacks were wet from the knee down. She smelled the tang of copper and fought her own stomach, and failed. The shakes got worse as she dry heaved. Acid seared her throat again. When she stood again, the other Watcher had moved towards Max's corpse.

"Over a minute. Minute seventeen seconds. That's how long the quickening lasted. You didn't move for another two minutes." Samuel was quiet, voice respectful as he answered her.

"Gods I hate this. He wanted to die, but he's not quite giving up. Damn it. Damn it. Damn you Max. Why me?" She stood and shook like a leaf. She knew it was a combination of grief, the smell of blood, and the pain of a quickening combined.

"Angelique? Cell phone?" Samuel reminded her. She reached out a hand and he placed the device gently in her palm. She closed her fingers around the small box and forced herself to think.

"Sam? Sanderson and Welch funeral home. They do cremation. Tell them to give me a call at this number. I assume you guys have this cell tracked? I'll set up everything for Max."

"All right. We'll see to it." Sam said, and she turned back for another look at her friend, and then barked out an order.

"Drop his blade you little bitch! That's not going into some damned vault somewhere in the Watchers network!"

"How dare you! You just -"

"Drop. The. Sword. Now!" The rage roared up, striking hot and fast as she stalked across the grass. She watched the blonde woman stagger under the weight and some part of her winced under the coldness of her voice. The rest was focused on the shining length of steel. She was _not_ leaving it behind.

"Amber, just put it down. You can't swing it fast enough to stop her. And she wouldn't need to take your head if she got another kick in."

"I'm not leaving _my_ sword -" She realized what she had just said and swore a pithy oath in french before continuing, "_his_ sword for the vultures to pick at. Its going home with me. He was a friend, damn it."

"I watched him for twenty years, damn you! Twenty years!"

"Amber? I'm damned unstable right now. Put down that sword before I break your scrawny neck. I may be shaking myself to pieces, but I can still do it."

"Angelique? Amber? Calm down please?" Amber bared her teeth in a snarl and Angelique didn't take her eyes off the Watcher. She was not leaving that sword.

"Ladies, compromise. Angelique, how about you give Amber the bit of gold dangling there... Amber, give her the sword."

Angelique brought her right hand up and blinked. She'd forgotten the cross in the few seconds it had taken for her to lose her temper.

"His... yes. It would be less noticeable to the public." The watcher said, sword lowering shakily to the ground.

"Lay it down, I don't want the edges harmed. Damn thing shattered my blade, can't imagine it came out fully intact."

The sword was gently laid on the turf. Angelique stepped forward quickly, planted a boot on the blade and then handed across the gold french cross pendant. She then shoved her cell phone into her pocket.

"Its a mid 18th century piece. I bought it in Orleans, its just simple gold without ornamentation. Max never did like flashy. He-" her eyes widened as the memory surged up from Max's perspective briefly, "He never took it off after I gave it to him. He's worn it constantly since 1735. Oh, mon ami."

"You gave him this? He always had it on. It was a distinguishing trait for us... we never knew where..." Amber shook her head slightly as she cradled the pendant and its gold chain. She seemed dazed.

"Amber, he wanted this. I can let the pendant go. I can't leave his sword. It would be a betrayal of the worst sort. Its the reason some of my kind collect swords. If we thought our opponent was honorable, we took his or her sword with our own. A last respect of sorts. I've thrown my share of really bad blades away in the past, or took a high quality piece because it was better than what I was using, but the really corrupt ones? I just left the blade lying with them."

"That explains a few things about your chronicles." Came faintly from behind her as she knelt in the grass and carefully picked up the worn blade.

Her thoughts were sad as she cradled the piece in both hands, _Ah old friend, it looks like you've seen your last too. I can't wield this one. Not for long enough anyways. And breaking my blade took a chunk out of this one. I'll have to make a mount for you._

"I'm going to take a quick shower. I can wrap the claymore in my spare duster. It'll sit in the car until I can get it home."

"Headed home then?" Sam asked as he belatedly remembered he held her keys. He tossed them overhand and she caught them handily enough, even with the large sword.

"No, Samuel Paulsen. I'm going to take a shower, change, and then head to work. I have to be _me. _That means work."

"All right. Sanderson and Welch? Have them call you. What do you want us to do with the remains of your blade? Do you have another?"

The chuckle tore itself out of her throat at that question and turned into a sob. "Yes, gods. Max would have had my hide if I didn't carry a back up blade. I'll collect the pieces later tonight. Or you guys can keep them. It served for over two hundred years. I can let it go."

So saying she balanced a lover's blade across her left shoulder and left the field, clothing torn and bloodied, victor in a fight she'd been forced to win.


	5. Bride's Forge

Chapter Five : Bride's Forge

By the time the gentlemen from the funeral home were loading Maximus' body, Angelique stood dressed in a pair of dark stonewashed Levi's, a green tee, and a charcoal gray blazer. She wore a fresh pair of socks and another pair of hiking boots, as well as her secondary blade sheathed on a baldric, with the sword across her back, pommel and grip poking over her left shoulder. The chest buckle for the baldric was plain stainless steel.

She was supervising, ignoring the uneasy glances that were thrown over the shoulder at her at least once every thirty seconds. The sword made it obvious that she wasn't a Watcher. She also wasn't moving until he was loaded. Angelique was amused at how intimidating the men found her. Of course it could have had something to do with the fact she had stood at the boot scraper next to the entrance, one foot propped on the mud blade, carefully running a lightly oiled rag up and down the exposed blade when they first arrived.

Even though she hadn't used the thirty eight inch sword to fight, she hadn't handled the blade in a few weeks, and needed to get used to it again. The pommel sported a fleur de lis in steel. She'd had the piece made last year by one of the sword-smith's in Chicago. The symbol of Royal France fit smoothly into the wire wrapped grip and added the right amount of counter balance to keep the sword level. The guard of the blade was plain, but engraved with the words * Hoc * Vernant * Lilia * Corde * on either side. It was a simple bar, ends also blooming into smaller fleurs de lis. She called it her "Orléans Blade". It was a nod back to her roots. She had been found and died her First Death in Orléans, France. This sword was her acknowledgment of that fact. It was also in show ready condition. She had yet to use the blade in combat, but had tested it in sparring. The sword was only two years old.

She absently reached up for her raven and fumbled. At her throat winked the silver Celtic cross that Max had given her at the church. Her raven was nestled in a small velvet pouch and in her glove box. Her duffle was in the trunk, Max's sword sheathed and wrapped carefully in her duster and sitting next to it. Three shards of her raven blade were wrapped in a leather pouch, and would become part of the next blade she forged as a way of continuity.

"Well, Ma'am he'll be taken to the funeral home and cremated by the end of business today. You selected the Green Marble Urn. His name and dates are entered into the computer and will be engraved on the affixed brass plaque on the urn. A Watcher verified that this was an Immortal death and the coroner signed off on it. Sign here please."

She signed and gently handed back the computer. "I should be able to pick him up tomorrow then?"

"Yes Ma'am. Will you be wanting to hold a memorial here?"

"No. He asked me to lay him next to his wife. She's in New Orleans."

"Ah. Well, have a good day."

"Thank you, you as well." The response was automatic, an ingrained politeness.

As the van pulled away, she bowed her head one last time and walked towards her car. The shower had tamed the shakes. The fact that she had wanted the quickening was helping it settle. She was still more energized than an eight week old kitten at three in the morning, but outwardly there was no appearance of it aside from the new blade and wet, french braided hair. She knew from long experience that her metabolism was in overdrive. Even if she hadn't sicked up her breakfast, she'd still be planning on finding the nearest fast food place and ordering half a dozen breakfast sandwiches and hash browns with a large cup of coffee to wash it all down with.

Her hand was on the driver's side door when a voice barking next to her ear and a hand on her arm interrupted her train of thought.

"Hold it right there! Under section 2 of the new law -"

The police officer didn't get farther than that, because she twisted, and shoved with the arm that the cop had grabbed, forcing the officer away from her. The baldric was off her shoulder and the blade was in hand by the time she registered what had just happened. The cop was flat on his back and ashen-faced. She held a sword on him with one hand, the sheath in the other. Then her temper sparked.

"Jesus! Did you see that?" Another cop asked his buddy. She also heard sniggering.

"You imbecile! I could have killed you! As for the _rest_ of you morons, a free lesson from an Immortal that has just won a challenge – Do _not_ get close enough to lay a hand on us. We are all jumpy right the hell after. If I'd been wearing this differently your friend here would have eaten three thumb lengths of steel before my brain reacted." She sheathed her blade and shrugged back into the baldric. "I didn't realize he was next to me, but I reacted to being startled and grabbed. Announce yourself from outside of four feet. If we don't draw on you, you should be fine to approach. If we draw, we have to move a few steps before engagement occurs. That should be enough time to drop us with either a bullet or a stun gun. Just expect the Immortal to be upset when he or she comes to."

"That was fast. One second you had the sword on your back, the next it was in hand..."

"And that was slow, officer. If I'd been carrying at the hip it would have been more of a blur. Wearing it out and visible means its more readily to hand than it was under a coat. Under a coat kept what I am from being obvious. With it out, I will react to being grabbed with lethal force. I grew up in a time where _anyone_ laying hands on me was really bad. The muggers would bash you over the head with a club, if mugging was all they were interested in."

The murmur of understanding rippled through the small gathering of officers. She helped the one she had knocked flat to his feet and then slowly pulled out her wallet. She handed it to him and then reached carefully to the small of her back and unsheathed a three inch wedge shaped blade.

"I have a concealed carry for this state and at least five others. Drivers license, Immortal ID, and the concealed permit are all there. If you want proof, here it is." So saying she sliced a line across the back of her hand. The lighting leapt readily to repair the damage she had caused. She then fished out her handkerchief and blotted off the blood. Her flesh was smooth underneath. She wiped the blade clean and slipped it back into its sheath.

"Why four feet?"

"Outside of four feet, actually. Most Immortals don't carry a blade longer than four feet. It used to be so that we could conceal the sword in the coat. Some may switch back to a longer piece now that a good chunk of the world governments have adopted and passed the Visible Weapons Law aka the Immortal Visibility Act and we aren't restricted by concealment needs."

"Yours would fit under a coat though?"

"Its thirty eight inches from pommel to tip. Its an inch shorter than my old blade, which hid just fine in a custom sheath inside a leather trench coat."

"Hey, aren't you the Battle Bride Forge Sword-smith attached to the museum?"

Angelique turned to face the new voice. Her dark eyes flicked over the lieutenant's insignia at his collar, and then nodded. "Yes, I am, Lieutenant ?"

"Jacobson. You do good work. I bought one of your pieces last year for my brother in law."

"Glad to know you liked the work. Its Bride Forge actually. He can always e-mail me if he has any questions as to the process, care, et cetera. But I have to get to work. The forge is probably just hot enough for the first blank of the day."

"Then we will let you get to it. I believe my son's class is taking a tour today. Wouldn't want them to miss the smithy."

x X x

The billet she had pulled from the forge was glowing a lovely orange, and the hammer blows fell precisely as she lengthened and folded the steel. She was humming as she worked. This piece would be her new back up blade when she was finished with it. She kept one ear cocked for the sounds of children giggling and shuffling closer. So far, the class had not materialized. She turned the block of steel and swung the hammer again. It was almost in the rough shape of a blade with tang, and that was after three hours of work.

"Up ahead of us is the Bride Forge. Our sword-smith makes blades she certifies as "battle forged" for the museum gift shop and for her own use. She just finished replicas of the 14th century German longsword you all saw in the museum. I believe she's in the middle of making a private collection piece. I'll just see if we can interrupt her..." The woman speaking knocked on the door and cautiously poked her head in.

"Bring them on in, Shelly. I'm still rough forging. If it were detail work I'd be more split, but this is just about cool enough that I should put it back."

"She says come on in. Be polite, and do not go past the metal bar that she's set up. Any closer and you might be burned."

"Hello everyone. I'm Angelique. As Shelly said, please stay on the other side of that bar there. Sometimes I work with swords that almost reach the bar,and when bits of metal slag are being struck off, they tend to fly."

"Wow, look at all the swords!"

"Are any of them sharp?"

"Hey, that one is wavy... weird."

"There are fifteen swords displayed around me. Seven of them are sheathed. Only one blade in this collection hanging around me is sharp. And I have to grab this blade again, hang on." The red length of steel came back out of the forge and she took up the heavy hammer again. Between blows she gave her prearranged lecture.

"A sword in the hands of a good smith can take anywhere from six to twenty hours to complete, depending on the length, detail, and requirements of each. This piece has at least four more hours under my hands before its fully forged. See how when I hit the blade it flicks off bits? That's slag. Its an impurity in the metal that heating exposes and allows me to flake off. This is high carbon steel that I've added a little bit of extra to. I had to melt the blade back down to introduce a few shards of an old blade. That's why I'm still rough shaping." The blank went back into the forge, and this time she shoved it far enough in to avoid over heating the tip, focusing on the middle of the blank.

"I didn't think girls did this." A boy said and she heard the choked chuckle of a parent. She looked up into the eyes of the Lieutenant and smiled.

"Women and men both worked the forge when needed in times past. Usually a man would do the heavy work – scythes, armor, that sort of thing. I've been making swords for a while. I can run this forge by myself. Sometimes I have an assistant helping me, by feeding charcoal or running the bellows. Shelly? Mind handing me that bag of charcoal?"

The tour guide smiled and hefted the open twenty five pound bag. Angelique took it, set it next to the quenching tank, pulled the blank from the fire and hammered at it again. She then lifted it, turned, hammered again, and then laid it aside on an iron table behind her. She pulled a piece of the charcoal out, then poured half the bag onto the fire and raked it around.

"Charcoal is what we use to give the fire something to hold onto and eat. This forge reaches temperatures hot enough to liquify small amounts of steel. I don't need the steel that hot very often. Usually I just heat things enough to soften it for shaping. Go ahead and pass around the bit of charcoal, we have wet wipes to clean your hands off after."

"This looks like wood!"

"It is, its partially burned wood. You all heard the name when you walked in, Bride Forge. The forge is so designated as such for the accent marks that I alternated every other brick. Its a four armed cross, it comprises a woven square in the center and four radials tied at the ends. The same is worked in iron and hung over the door. It is the symbol of St. Brigid, who is also known as the Goddess Brigid of the irish patheon." She pointed to the large piece that hung over the door, and the adults turned to look while the kids stared up at the scored mark in the bricks.

"Why Bride?" A little girl in the front asked.

"Because that is one of Her many names. She is also the patron of smiths. So a forge dedicated to Her was common practice in Ireland in the old days. This forge was designed and built in the 1960s to mimic one from Ireland. I know for a fact that the last brick laid on the chimney was brought from Ireland and blessed by the nuns of Kildare. It is engraved with the St. Bride's cross on each side of the brick and the year. 1965."

"Girls can't lift something like that really big sword!" Another little boy argued with one of his friends, pointing to a great sword that hung polished and weighted at the very back. Angelique smiled, pulled off her leather work glove and tugged the wooden stool she kept in the smithy into place under the blade.

"This one?" She called as she stepped up on the stool so that she could reach the hilt of the blade and lift it gently down.

"Yep! Girl's can't – whoa."

The sword settled easily into her hands, a five foot monstrosity that had never been sharpened. It was plain, purely functional and fullered on both sides through out with a Norman guard, leather wrapped grip, and beveled hexagonal pommel. She took a step forward and turned to the side. She bent her knees slightly and then easily swung the bright blade through a few moves, listening to it sing through the air and remembering that the point of balance was midway down the length of the blade on her second pass. She then grounded the point gently on the stool and looked over at the boy.

"This sword only weighs four pounds. The large hammer on the anvil weighs eight pounds. The smaller three, the smallest weighs half a pound. Gender does not mean one is incapable of anything." She easily stepped back up on the stool and re hung the blade. As she passed by the table, she snagged the leather bag full of bits of shaped steel that she'd made from a few fallen opponent's truly junk blades.

"These are just bits of steel that were small enough for me to melt and cast." She shook out tiny St Brigid crosses that were less than a quarter of an inch across into her hand. Each was embossed with the letters A D O.

"Hey, my uncle Seb has a sword with that mark on it! Did you make his... eleventh century viking sword?"

The bits went back into the bag almost absently as she stiffened. The pouch landed on the anvil. The feel of Presence had just roared across the back of her neck, making the small hairs stand on end. She stepped back and easily pulled her sword from its sheath.

"Is it longer than this or shorter?" She asked, resting the flat of the blade on her right shoulder and the leather apron.

"Longer I think? The mark is on one side of the blade. Its not sharp though."

"It would be shorter, the viking blade I made was a total of thirty seven inches. This is an inch longer. The letters stand for Angelique Du Orleans, welcome to Bride Forge." As she said that, she inclined her head to the person that stood in the shadow cast by the door.

"The sword quality is always amazing." The man said, stepping into the light, revealing tousled gold curls falling around his ears and bright green eyes.

"Thanks for the compliment, my friend." She turned and re-sheathed her blade, acting nonchalant.

"Uncle Seb!" The little boy crowed, whipping around and wiggling through his classmates to barrel into the other immortal. A furrow formed between her eyes as she looked her former student up and down. He wasn't wearing a visible weapon. That worried her.

"What brings you down my way?"

"Just passing through. Was hoping I might be able to purchase another lovely replica. You wouldn't happen to have anything unique would you?" His eyes were dark, and panic filled. Angelique swallowed a curse. She knew now he was without a sword.

"Sure. Hand these out to the kids please? Give me a moment to look around, I might be able to find something for you." She handed off the bag of metal bits and then turned to the metal table where her blade blank lay. Beneath it on a shelf were cloth wrapped bundles. She didn't give him her back completely.

"And no arguing Shelly, those bits are just promo pieces. I can always make more."

"Cool, real metal! This is so neat!"

"Children, if you will follow me, I'll take you back into the museum. We have a crusader wing that we will enter right after we leave here."

Angelique waited for the children to file out before she asked over her shoulder, "Seb, six foot one, correct?"

"Aye."

She pulled a long bundle from under the table and turned, coming face to face with the Lieutenant. She sighed. As soon as she revealed this blade Seb's brother in law would know it was sharp. Which would open a whole can of family worms she was certain.

"Its all right, Angelique. He's known for about three years."

"Try this one then. Nearly three pounds, double edged, straight and point of balance is just behind the guard." She flipped off the cloth enough to expose a hilt patterned off a Gothic piece that hung in the museum.

"Total length?"

"Thirty nine inches. Its light enough to use either one or two. You know my current price scale. And I think your nephew is going to think its cool you bought another sword. You could have sharpened the viking piece."

"I did. Its at the bottom of Lake Superior."

She just looked at him. One eye brow rose.

"I'll add twenty percent because of that fact. Sorry, Teacher."

"I will be getting that story out of you, believe it."

"Johannes Rimbau ring a bell?"

"Scum of the worst sort. I would have thought the Watchers would have gotten rid of him and quickly. He was a nightmare during World War II."

"Apparently they missed him. I went overboard rather than lose my head. The blade slipped when I hit the water. Came ashore in Wisconsin."

"Mistreat a blade again and I will beat you black and blue with a practice piece until you remember that fact. Am I clear?"

"Yes Ma'am." Sebastian actually cringed as he sheathed the new blade and pulled out his credit card.

"You aren't through your first century yet, Seb. I would really rather not bury another student so soon after what I learned today."

"What? Who?"

"Maximus showed up today. I met your brother in law at the Arena. Gwenna's dead. I'll be taking Maximus' ashes to New Orleans to place him next to her."

"I'm really sorry, teacher mine. You knew he'd call in that marker some day."

"I did. You try and keep your head on, please. Should I expect Rimbau a few days behind? You are using traceable data."

"Yes. I want him to find me. Fighting on a ship was... not to my liking."

"He may never reach you, Seb. I didn't take him on in Freed France when he first surfaced because I was busy training you. Roman temple ruins are great for that fact."

"You can't fight my battles for me!"

"If he challenges me, its no longer your battle." She glared at her former student and sighed. He was still young. Well, she thought ruefully, when she could measure nearly six hundred years lived, a number of immortals seemed young.

"The sheath goes with it. I'm assuming you have a baldric that will work for it, or a sword belt?"

"Yes to both. Thank you, Teacher. I was worried I'd have to find a chunk of holy ground and sharpen for a while."

"You would have been safe here. Now I'd better let you get back to your group. Have your Immortal Ident Card ready to go and they won't hassle you too much about the blade in the museum. They will recognize it as something I forged though. Keep the sales slip too."

"I -"

"Seb, I know. I'll be busy with this project for a few more hours. How about I meet you, and your brother in law and his family for dinner at the Riptide? Its right on Main, can't miss it. My treat."

"That'd be me, my sister Lilly and Henry, my nephew. Plus this guy. You saw what he was like today." He tipped his blond head towards his brother in law.

"My treat. Besides, I need the practice. And your Watcher would probably love some time to catch a breather."

"Ms Raven-Leon that's very generous of you but ..."

"David? She doesn't take no for an answer. Just call Lilly and tell her an old friend of mine is taking all of us out for dinner."

"Fine. What time?"

"Seven work for you?"

We'll be there. Now let's go catch up to the group, Sebastian."

Angelique smiled as she walked over to her blazer and dug out her cell phone. After a quick phone call she had a reservation for five at Riptide tonight. She then turned back to working the potential sword blade. She had four hours between now and when she had to get ready.

* * *

Author's Notes: Yes, much of this chapter is filler fluff. But I needed a way to introduce a few concepts. And before anyone asks, yes the forge is Holy Ground.

Visible Weapons Law: (Vega UN proposed ) the idea that only Immortals are allowed to carry swords after several countries saw a rash of armed robberies by people posing as Immortals. Swords must be carried in such a way that they are immediately visible to the public.

Immortal Visibility Act : The United States' version of the UN proposed law.

_Hoc vernant lilia corde - _""It is by this heart that lilies flourish." The motto of the city of Orleans, France.

The description of St. Brigid's cross is as accurate as I can make it. There are nuns at Kildare that tend a well and maintain a sacred flame. They are known as the Brigidine Sisters.


	6. I Am Immortal

Chapter Six : I Am Immortal

It only took her two and a half hours to correctly shape the steel for what would be her "Ravenna Blade" Everything was cast guard, and pommel. She even had a section of Mexican mountain mahogany for the grip. After she had worked the grip piece she remembered exactly why she hadn't chosen it for her last blade.

It had dulled her chisels carving the grooves to fit the open beak of her raven's head pommel. But the spiral grip looked great, and most importantly wouldn't slip in a fight. She had then wrapped the entire grip in leather, fitting it to each groove. Once the leather was dry she would be able to sharpen the blade and test it out. She had set the blade, still scaled, on a set of wooden pegs and banked the forge. She had two hours left until the museum closed for the day, and her boss, Luke Ashley hadn't been by the forge yet today.

Shrugging into her blazer with a muttered, "coat then sword" she locked the sharpened blades into a gunsafe that was tucked into an overlooked corner of the forge. She shut and locked the door to the forge and headed up the hill after checking to make sure her wallet was in her jeans pocket. She walked around the side of the hill and went through the front door, deliberately passing through the metal detectors and the guards.

Even though they were used to her packing at least one sword as a promotional piece as she wandered through the museum, there were still double takes when she handed over her Immortal ID along with the little dagger she wore in the small of her back.

"So our Sword-smith _is_ an Immortal. I always wondered about that." Josh said as Angelique retained her hold on the sword and allowed them to wand her instead of giving up the blade.

"That's why you set up the idea of wandering the museum with a blade over your shoulder or at your hip. Everything you brought through was actually forged for use."

"Chuck? Everything I forge is for use. The difference is whether or not its sharpened. And yes, every blade I wore as promo was a sharpened piece. Which reminds me, I need to forge another Gothic Hilt."

"Yeah, Rick said there was another Immortal here. He said it was one of your swords he was carrying, he left with the tour group though."

"He bought it from me direct from the forge. Didn't go through the gift shop."

"I like the new piece. It looks like a Joan of Arc thing."

She smiled slightly, "Jeanne d'Arc and I share the same hometown. Orleans, France."

"So were you and she ah... contemporaries?" Chuck asked, flushing slightly at such a potentially personal question.

"Jeanne d'Arc died on May 30, 1431 at the hands of the English. I died on the twenty seventh of October in the year of our lord 1428, also at the hands of an Englishman. So yes, in a way we were."

"Oh. Wow, that had to suck." Chuck and Josh both blanched at that thought.

"Dying always hurts, boys. Now I would like to get in to see my boss, before he heads for home."

"Sure Angelique. Hey, when's your birthday?"

"October 27 according to my driver's license."

"No, really. When?"

"Its the only date I'm going to give you boys."

"You are no fun Angelique. Expect a Halloween cake then!"

Angelique laughed slightly as she waved over her shoulder, already detouring to the right to avoid meeting up with any of the other museum staff. She didn't have time for the entire "I'm Immortal, I was born in 1401 and I cannot die" song and dance with the rest of the staff. She could do that tomorrow, but she figured she should reveal herself to her boss first.

Mercedes wasn't at her desk, pouring over architecture books, but the light was on under Mr. Ashley's door, so she knew he was still in. She took a deep breath, fished out her Immortal ID again and knocked.

"Enter!"

Angelique opened the door, stepped in, and closed it carefully behind her. She then placed herself in front of his desk, waiting for Mr. Ashley to give her his full attention. This was not something she was just going to drop on the old man.

"Yes, Ms. Raven-Leon, what is it?"

"I figured I should talk to you about the smithy and my continued employment."

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, Mr Ashley, there isn't. Or well, there shouldn't be."

"Whyever do you say that? Oh, well, about the sword thing, I'm sure we can get a permit or something..."

"Mr. Ashley, we won't need a permit. Or rather, I won't. This is all the permit I need." She flicked the Immortal ID across the clear desk to land on his blotter.

She knew the exact moment he realized what it was, she heard the swift intake of breath. "You? You are one of _them_?"

"If by _them_ you mean someone that has seen many amazing things, then yes."

"But... but... most of _them_ are male. You must be pretty young. Good thing you know how to make a sword. I'm sure we can find you a teacher, dear. What was that thing about holy ground? I'm sure we could make this a safe place for you to work. Do you think the local catholic church would mind consecrating an entire museum? Oh dear, we had a man come through today, with a sword. He wasn't after you, was he?"

Angelique squashed the urge to laugh. She had been worried about Mr. Ashley being upset about her being Immortal, not about him thinking she was new to the Game and worried that she was in danger.

"Mr. Ashley, easy my friend. I was born in 1401. I am far from young. The forge is already consecrated ground. And Sebastian wasn't after me, but he was here to see me. He is a former student of mine. He needed a sword. So I sold him one."

She watched the old brown eyes behind half moon glasses become huge, "You sold him a sword? Whyever for?"

"Without a sword, Mr. Ashley, we might as well be sitting ducks, dead, or on Holy Ground. I sold him the promotional Gothic Hilt."

"The promotional... why the promotional?"

"Every promo blade I've carried is sharpened. Each is fully functional steel. None of it has been used in Challenge. All of it tested well though. It was the best fit for him."

"You would know more than I... did you say 1401?"

"Yes."

"That would make you nearly... oh my."

"Over actually, 605 this year."

"I suppose I should stop calling you young lady then?" He asked it with a wry smile.

"Only if you feel like it. I certainly don't act my age." Her smile was cheerful. He laughed.

May I see your current sword?"

"Sure." She shrugged out of the baldric and passed the entire package across the desk. She then picked up her ID and tucked it back in her wallet.

"This is beautiful. Modern in looks. French themed. These are exquisite."

"The pommel and guard were forged by a Chicago smith last year. I had them custom cast. And no, this sword hasn't been blooded yet either. My usual sword shattered today in a Challenge. The Challenge made me late for work."

"You obviously won. Shattered?"

"Made the mistake of catching a claymore edge on. At least I think it was edge on. Things were moving pretty fast. Sword snapped and splintered. It was an inch longer than this one. This was my back up."

"It carries the Bride Forge mark."

"I cast the form, just sent out to a good friend for a guard and a pommel. She and her husband run the Celtic Forge, near the docks in Chicago. Her mark is a knotwork raven, should be on the left side."

"I've heard of her. Alexena Cumberland-Roarke?"

"Yes, she and her husband do fine work. Alexena did these though. His mark is a simple double-strand trifoil."

"Is there anything else we need to update before I head home?"

"Here, this is an Immortality Form. Just add it into my files. Everything is listed under my original name with the notation that I'm doing business as Angelique Raven-Leon. They had to make this a provision, just in case some of us were so deeply entrenched in an identity that it would be harder to break than it would be to assume our original." She pulled the folded three page form from her blazer pocket.

"And you are one?"

"Right now the last thing my former schools need to deal with is altering their records to reflect the correct name. All my current degrees are under Raven-Leon. As for the form, it would hold up in court. I meant to drop it off this morning, but got sidetracked."

"Just one more question, Ms. Raven-Leon, what did you mean by 'Should have remembered that', the first day we met?"

"One of the corner bricks on the forge was loose. I'd left it that way deliberately when I left forty years ago. Only a fine blade slipped between the other two bricks would have normally pried it loose. Instead I put a hand on it and it levered up. Its the very back left corner brick too."

"Why?"

"Old superstition of sorts. If a forge is left incomplete the Bride pays more attention to it. And the blessing on the Kildare brick doesn't lock to just the forge, but spreads to the entire building. I doubled my chances when we hosted that Festival Day for the Unitarians out here. Reverend Rothe blessed the forge when I asked. So the ground is consecrated. Also dropped in another consecrated coin when we re-did the threshold when I first arrived."

"So your workspace is holy ground and you are safe there."

"Yes, and not many of my kind would want to risk a red hot blade blank through the heart. I'd do it too, if they threatened me. Oh, we can get away with that much on Holy Ground. I wouldn't dare a Quickening though. Last time that happened a volcano erupted and buried a pair of towns."

"Sounds nasty."

"Before my time, but yeah, nobody I know wants to risk that."

"So, personnel form addition, you are safe at the Forge. What about between here and home?"

"Two churches, Tromby Park, and as soon as I'm past Vetter Drive, only a fool would engage there. The old cemetery spans from Vetter and Kells until it reaches Weller Street and Coleman."

"You mean the rumors of there having been a cemetery on that section is true?"

"Yes. And Carter Street, which runs straight through the old plot, is where my house is. I bought it deliberately for that reason. I like my sleep to be uninterrupted by Challenges. Mind you, they could torch the house to force my hand, but most of the worst are already gone. The ones that are left are mostly the honorable sort."

"Mostly?"

"Yeah, mostly. There might be one or two left out there that would, but they wouldn't last long. Even if I fell, somebody else would eventually put them down. If not the Watchers themselves."

"So, you'll stay here with us?"

"I'm comfortable here. I enjoy my work, and I know the lay of the land. As long as my boss doesn't have a problem I shouldn't have to move."

"I'll just tuck this into your file. Would you mind walking me to my car?" The sword passed back across the desk and she slipped it on as he walked to his coat tree and shrugged into a wool overcoat.

"Not at all, Mr. Ashley."

Once the three page file was in the file cabinet, Angelique offered her left arm to the older man, especially on the stairs.

"You should expect Lawrence Dalton to show up at some point. He wanted to do a feature on the Forge. It might change to a -"

"Feature about the Immortal Smith that runs the forge? I expected as much. As did most of the remaining Immortals I would bet. One thing you have to understand Mr. Ashley, none of us ever asked for this life. We have been given it though, and will fight to protect it. That makes us monsters to some. I know the really good ones, like Duncan MacLeod, has done his best to avoid harming the innocent. We also tend to lead solitary lives for that reason."

"So, you have friends, maybe the occasional really good friend, but have held yourselves apart?"

"There was a time when we had to seriously worry another Immortal would use any friends or family against us. It was best for everyone."

"You go through centuries without anyone. That can't be healthy. And speaking of healthy, you should have a coat young lady."

"Mr. Ashley, its not like it would kill me permanently. We also rarely get sick. Besides, I'm waiting on a new coat. Something that isn't counter weighted against a blade on one side. Everything else feels weird, and my first instinct is to hide my sword."

"Why?"

"My teacher taught me to conceal the sword. Women didn't carry in that day. Her people were a bit more accepting of it, but she grew up in a warrior society, fighting the Romans. It was one of the first things she taught me. How to conceal the blade as well as how to fight with it."

"How old was your teacher?"

"She is nearly 2000 years old. She's still in the game, so to speak. We tend to speak at the solstices. I always have her phone number somewhere, or she sends me a letter."

"Its good to have a constant. I hope to see you at the forge on time tomorrow. Mr. Dalton might be dropping by tomorrow to have the interview ready for the Friday paper."

"I'll watch for him. Skylar might accompany me to work tomorrow. Drive safe, sir."

"Thank you, my dear. Have a good night."

x X x

Angelique had driven home, let the dog out, made sure she had food, then showered, changed and then walked down to Riptide. She was the first to arrive and elected to wait for her party instead of being seated. She had shrugged out of her coat, checked it, and then slipped her rig back on over the crisp white blouse and ankle length red skirt. The thrum of Presence was soon apparent and she turned to face the door, shoulders squared. She had shifted from an across the back carry to a baldric that put her blade just under her left arm, reminiscent of a shoulder holster. When Sebastian walked through the door she smiled and then laughed when he inclined his head to her. She stepped forward and gripped his arms, just above the elbows, nodding in approval when he belatedly did the same.

The grip was a greeting form she had taught all her students. It kept both sword bearers from being able to draw even a dagger by occupying both hands. It was a form her teacher had insisted on."Good to see you again, Sebastian. How far ahead are you of your sister and her family?"

"Fifteen minutes at least. It will be just Lilly and David. Apparently their usual babysitter was helping Henry with homework and she volunteered to watch him while they went out. Sis might have questions."

"I expect Lieutenant Jacobson will." She released Sebastian and turned back to the hostess, "Rachel? My friend and I will take that table now, it looks like its going to be the four of us, not five."

"All right, Angelique. You know, I still can't get use to the – sword. Two of... wow." The girl turned back to Angelique and stopped, realizing that her companion was wearing a blade at his hip.

"I promise the only thing that has changed about me is my actual age. I still like my steak done medium with new potatoes in butter and that excellent blueberry dessert wine."

"Hmm. I'll take your word for it. You aren't going to have an issue, are you?"

"No, Rachel, he's a former student of mine. Drawing on your teacher is just bad form. And your sister would probably borrow my blade to beat you around the head."

"She can still kick my butt. Not going to risk it." Sebastian said, flashing a ready grin.

"All right. Table ten is yours then. I'll just walk you myself, so the poor new girl doesn't freak out over the swords. Did you get your most recent done?"

"Had to re-forge the Ravenna. Its shaped and fitted. Just need to take the time to sharpen it."

"Can't wait to see it finished. The drawings looked so pretty."

"From you I know that is a compliment." Angelique said, walking on Sebastian's left, and ignoring the murmurs of shock that were whispering through the establishment that was cloaked in crisp blue linen. The baldric stood out sharply against the white silk of the blouse and the claret color of the skirt.

Sebastian's sword hung in the plain black leather sheath, strung on a black leather sword belt, against gray slacks. She smiled when he sat down at an angle and she did the same across from him. He gave her the seat with her back against a wall and took the one to her left.

"I'll just ask now, what will you be drinking tonight?"

"Let's go with a simple glass of house red for right now, if its a good one? I'll swap to a different one when we order. Sebastian?"

"Um, how about an ale or porter?"

"Ohh, how about that new brewery, Crow Peak? That dark porter was good the last time I tried it."

"You are the local, I defer to you, madame." He said with a smirk.

"House red and Pile O ' Dirt coming right up."

The look on Sebastian's face at hearing the name of the porter was priceless. "Don't worry. I haven't had to drink dirt since I was a hundred and sixteenish."

"Oh, that's reassuring. How are you holding up? David told me about today."

"Still wired. No longer shaking like a leaf. I was able to crunch down the shaping from four hours to about three. Being able to swing correctly and for longer each burst helped. And at first my co-workers just thought I'd brought in another private sword. Then I pulled my ID."

"That explained why the security guards weren't too flustered."

"I usually walked the building with one of the promotional blades at my hip. Anything bigger I wore across the back and prayed I wouldn't actually be challenged while wearing."

"I don't think Henry processed why I was wearing the sword. That's going to be difficult to explain."

"He's what, eight? Seemed rather bright, even if his classmate made the mistake of saying a woman couldn't handle a great sword."

"Well, you really can't _forverylong_" he finished hastily as her eyes narrowed.

"I've brought down opponents with one in the past. Yes, the fights are usually short because of the heavier weights. The one in the forge is over five feet, but lighter than some I've been forced to use. And I can showy handle any sword in the forge. Even a fully functional blade."

"True. And -"

Both Immortals looked towards the door, stiffening as the song of a new Presence washed over them. Angelique lay a hand on Seb's shoulder as she rose to her feet, a silent order for him to remain in his seat. She saw the brief flicker of anger in his eyes, but she also saw acceptance.

Angelique moved calmly through the dining room, making a bee-line for the source of presence and the front door. As she stepped around the corner, she met the hazel eyes of Mathew Salisbury.

Author's Notes: I've had somebody ask me a question about the city. The city this story takes place in doesn't actually exist. Its bits and pieces of one of my favorite towns cobbled together with other areas I've lived or visit frequently. I know mentally how the city is set out and where things are in relation to other bits.

Second Note : This is an edited chapter. I only changed a date, the rest remains the same. I realized today when I did my numbers again I put her at the wrong age. Angelique died at 27, not at 17 which is what I had previously.


	7. Immortal Grand Central

Chapter Seven : Immortal Grand Central

"Cousin! David, I want you to meet my cousin, Angelique." He carried a faint English accent and it caused Angelique to smile.

"Cousin hmm?" David Jacobson asked, a frown flickering across his face as he wrapped an arm around a willowy blonde with dark green eyes. Angelique smiled, seeing enough of a resemblance to Sebastian to understand the claim for family.

Angelique easily stepped into Mathew's embrace. Her mouth was against his ear when she murmured, "He knows. And you should be carrying your sword visible."

"Does he now? Its in the car."

"So, I guess we will need that extra chair after all, Rachel." Angelique said as she stepped back from Mathew's embrace.

"I couldn't I was just walking David and his lovely wife to -"

"Mathew? You are eating with us. I insist. Alexis would never forgive me. Nor would my Aunt."

He held both his hands up, yielding the field. She hooked her left arm through his to prevent him from backing out and headed for her table. It also made her relatively harmless since it was harder to draw her blade with her left arm occupied.

Mathew was the consummate gentleman, seating her and Lilly before he took his own seat, on Angelique's right, putting Lilly between himself and David and putting David next to Sebastian. She understood Mathew's reasoning and hid her smile.

"Just so we are all on the same page, let's go around namewise?" Angelique suggested once drink orders had been taken. Both Mathew and Sebastian understood her statement, the two mortals were a bit confused.

"I'm still using Mathew Salisbury, Angelique."

"Angelique Raven-Leon."

"Sebastian Lordes."

"Sorry, Immortals change our names so frequently that we usually need to get others on the same page so we don't slip and call somebody the wrong name."

"Well, with the Visibility Act, that's not so much of a problem anymore."

"Unless you are entrenched. I had this conversation with my boss earlier. Handed over the 'doing business as' form for my records."

"So, Seb how do you know her?" Lilly asked, one blonde brow raised in an almost perfect mimic of her brother's patented look.

"Sorry Lills, Lilly Lordes-Jacobson, my Teacher, Angelique. I'd guess from the quick introductions and what I know of my line, this would be Cousin Mathew. Angelique's teacher was a student of the same teacher?"

"That's correct. Alexis and I both trained with the same teacher. Alexis trained Angelique. Then she trained you and Gwen- Forgive me, I -" The change in Sebastian's expression stopped Mathew cold.

"Its all right, Mathew. Seb, it really is. I've had a few hours to deal with it."

"Lilly, I lost my other student two weeks ago. Her husband brought me the news today. Its how I met your husband. Simply put, he didn't want to continue, but wants me to survive, come what may."

"You survived the challenge today." Lilly said, looking to the man she called brother, remembering the fear.

"Yes, he was only testing my reflexes. He pushed me into a series of moves that were more memory than thought. To Max, the conclusion had already been made. He just pushed me into it. I've worked off most of the outward signs of it at the Forge today."

"Is it always this busy with you guys?" David asked leaning back slightly as the server set down Seb's Porter and Angelique's house red.

"No, this is the most I've seen in my three months of being back in town." The slight prickle of a Presence caused two of the immortals to tense slightly and trade glances. Angelique just smiled.

"My name is Monica. I'll be your server today. I know Angelique already, will it be your usual?"

"Of course, Monica. I'll wait on the wine selection until the others have decided."

"Of course. Can I get the other gentlemen something to drink and the lady?"

"I'm off duty so, I'll take a Pile O' Dirt. Honey?"

"Is that a red wine, Angelique?"

"Just whatever the house red is at the moment."

"Same for me then."

"And you, sir?"

"Also off duty, is the wine any good, Cousin?" Angelique had taken a sip as he asked the question and merely nodded, glaring at Mathew over her cup. "Then it looks as though I'll have the same as well."

"Two wines and another Dirt. Coming right up. Here are your menus. Look them over and I'll be ready whenever you are." Monica bowed out, hurrying to the bar to get the drinks. The Presence faded.

The pair of Immortal men glared at Angelique. She simply shrugged and stared pointedly back. She slid effortlessly into Latin,"No, before either of you starts, no. Decision final. I will if it comes to that. You both have my word."

"Um?" David asked, looking between the glaring trio of Immortals that were ranged on one side of the table.

"Nothing that you need to worry about. Mathew sometimes forgets I'm no longer a child under my teacher's wing." Angelique lied glibly and Mathew shot her another glare for effect. None of them would reveal the fact that Monica was a pre-Immortal.

"You are right off an interstate. I'm in town tracking or rather, back tracking. I'm working for the FBI again."

"Couldn't get me to take a government job if you paid me well. But if you need my assistance in any way, just ask, Mathew."

"I'll keep this in mind. So, this is your student? The one from Free France in '45?"

"Yes. American GI, born 1919? I found him when he revived. He's a good kid." The last was delivered with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smirk.

"Kid, why I aughta..."

"Sebastian Henry Lordes! What would your mother say!" Lilly asked in perfect mother voice. Angelique simply laughed.

"I've been meaning to ask you, where did you find your lovely sister, Seb?"

"Would you believe on a street corner in St. Louis?" Lilly asked. Angelique kicked Mathew under the table as his jaw dropped as he startled up from his menu.

"She was seven years old, covered in soot. Her apartment building burned down. Mother and father dead, she was presumed same until I brought her to the police station. No living relatives. I said I was her big brother. They didn't even check. Just signed her over to me. We got all her documentation and I settled down with her. Created the identity of Sebastian Henry Lordes, and raised her."

"Seb, you could have come to me. I would have helped."

"I know, Angelique. You were busy in South America. I wasn't going to drag Lilly through that."

"Understood. And you seem to have absorbed his ability with mimicry. The eyebrow thing." She said to Lilly when she tipped her head to the side in confusion. "He'd do that to me every time I tried to teach him a new move. Just stare at me with that 'yeah and?' look."

"I think I'm going to enjoy having you around. You can tell me all the embarrassing stories he refused to tell me."

"Only about his training period. If he hadn't caught that stupid sniper's bullet he never would have ended up training with me."

The table fell quiet again as their server came back and carefully deposited the drinks and slid a fresh one next to Angelique. She blinked when she realized she was already on her second glass. She was drinking fast.

"Are we ready to order?"

"I think we all are." Mathew said after a quick glance around. Angelique deferred to the older Immortal with a slight smile. She'd forgotten how eating with him could be.

"All right, you first, sir."

"Let's go with that serloin in 9 ounces, green beans, and the side salad."

"All right, and how would you like the steak cooked?"

"Medium rare. And ranch on the side?"

"Certainly. To drink?"

"Would you recommend staying with the house wine for this, Cousin?"

"The steak is usually pretty good. The house its a Cabernet correct?"

"Yes, we also have a case of 1999 on hand."

"Then I'll stick with the house wine. You are next cousin." Mathew said with a smile.

"Let's up my usual steak to the 11 ounce, medium, new potatoes, and the side salad, bleu cheese please. I'll stay with the house wine as well."

"I'll follow my friend's lead, 9 ounce steak, medium rare, the steamed broccoli and soup. Is the house lobster bisque any good?"

Angelique coughed slightly on her wine and shook her head. "In that case, teacher mine, how about the potato and leek?"

"Excellent choice, sir. And I agree with Angelique. Our chef insists he knows what he is doing with the lobster, but everyone has their doubts."

"Just tell Mark we love him for his Turf, the surf this far out has been a few days on a truck." Angelique responded with a small smile, letting the french accent surface for a few seconds.

"I'll just blame it on you being French, again." Monica said with a smile before she turned expectantly to David.

Mathew leaned forward, murmuring in Latin, "She's your height and build. She'd be a good fit for you as teacher."

"So was Gwenna, with a riot of red curls to match that temper."

"So, everyone has swapped to the house wine, and its steak all around. I'll make sure to bring the new drinks with me when I bring the bread basket. We've got french loaves tonight. I swear its made accurately, Angelique."

"Let me be the judge of that, Monica."

"So I will." Monica riposted before slipping away.

"She's a wonderful woman. How did you meet?"

"Ended up in her section on my first day back. You two know me. It goes -"

"Home, Holy Ground, Food!" The other two immortals chorused with Lilly joining in, which made Angelique laugh, then swallow more of her wine. Lilly laughed as well.

"Sebastian has been muttering that for years!"

"My teacher taught me the same. Know where you are sleeping safe, know where the nearest refuge is, and always know where to find good food. You live longer."

"Angelique added, 'know a good blacksmith.' " Sebastian said, toasting his teacher with the remainder of his porter.

"You don't create your own, Sebastian. Alex and I both do. So I figured it best to add that in."

"French bread, and its hot out of the oven. Here's the cheese to go with. Easy now." Monica said as she slid the platter of cheese into the center of the table, followed by a basket of bread.

"Thanks, Monica."

"Welcome Angelique." She bent close to the female Immortal, "You may want to slow down, you are almost to your third and its not even been twenty minutes."

"Don't worry about it, Monica, I'm a lot tougher than I look. I don't get drunk, more's the pitty."

"No one here would harm her, Monica. You have my word of that." Mathew said, having clearly overheard Angelique's response.

"Thank you, Cousin." Angelique responded, seeing understanding in Mathew's eyes.

"Hmm?" Lilly asked as the server slipped away again.

"Sorry, I'm not pacing myself well. Going through wine quickly. I shouldn't be either."

"He's not settled yet, and this is just wine. I've seen it take a full bottle before it makes a dent. I remember Hans Olvad, 1946, Paris."

"Don't remind me of that one, please." Angelique said quietly, the grimace twisting her lips into a snarl.

"This has something to do with the Quickening she took this morning?" David asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Yes. The fact that it was a friend probably made it twice as painful, and if she's anything like she used to be, she nearly shook to pieces before it partially settled." Angelique only nodded and reached for a piece of the bread and scraped off a piece of the creamy cheese with the supplied knife. She bit into it and gave a small smile. Sebastian made her a second slice and set it in front of her.

"You took that today? So you are running hot, unsettled, and starved."

"Over a thousand years, no wonder you are drinking." Mathew muttered, and passed over his untouched glass of wine.

"Wait, the guy she took was over a … wow." David said with a blink.

"Seb's right, it takes either a full bottle of wine or something else to blunt the quickening enough to get a handle on it, to get it to a fully manageable level takes more."

"What other options are there?" David asked. Angelique glanced at Seb and raised an eyebrow, he understood what she was asking and nodded.

"Spar until I can't stand, drink til I pass out, or find a willing companion. I'm not going to ask either of you to help me with this. I can run drills til I fall over. Its what I usually do."

"I'd spar with you, Cousin."

"You are here on business. The last thing you need is to be stabbed repeatedly. I mean, how will you explain the mess to your colleagues?"

"My partner is my Watcher. I'm profiling again, after all."

"And where are they putting you up?"

"This little place called 'The Peak'?"

"Ugh. I've got five rooms free in my house. More than willing to let you guys crash there, you too Seb. We'd be on Holy Ground. Just expect my blade to be near to hand, even at home."

"I couldn't."

"Mathew, that place was closed down last month for bed bugs. You guys should not be staying there. Call your Watcher, tell your group _not_ to open the laundry room door or go in the back yard. My dog is in the laundry room and has access to the back yard. Key is taped under the mailbox."

" Its just the pair of us. I don't know how well my Watcher will take to being in the same house with us..."

"He or she can deal with it. Heck, I'd even let them watch me work out."

"All right, I'll call her now." Mathew got up from the table and stepped away to make his call.

"Are you serious about the bed bugs?"

"Yes. I know Mathew has seen worse but... not going to happen on my watch." Angelique shuddered slightly and smiled as she watched Mathew argue with his Watcher.

"So, Seb, have you seen yours lately?"

"Bought him a drink last week. Nearly had a heart attack, it was amusing, but I felt bad for him. He's old school."

"Ugh. At least they left it up to us to decide whether or not to make contact. I just got a new guy. Same family that's been watching me for a while, this is the third generation. I handed him my scabbard and rig today."

"I bet that was a kick."

"Not sure how much of one, considering he was holding while I was..." She trailed off and took a quick drink of the glass Mathew had pushed toward her. "I'm just glad this isn't visible in manifestation. My stomach jumping I can deal with, being starved as though I just came back from being shot, stabbed and hung I can deal with, I can't deal with shards of memory though. Damn."

"It will settle though. Its not as though Max was the oldest you've taken." Mathew said, slipping easily into his chair.

"No but that was a pretty simple litany : eat, sleep, destroy village, repeat. This... not so much. I could probably pick up most of his memories with little digging. I wanted this one, Cousin. I didn't block the way I usually do."

"I'll work you into the ground then."

"Will your partner be joining you?"

"I only had to say 'bed bugs' and she had my room open, my bags off the clothes horse, and by now has taken the car from out front."

"Then my blade is yours, Cousin." The promise was automatic, built into the old guesting customs all three Immortals had been taught, passed down from student to student in the line.

Angelique leaned back as the meals arrived and nodded slightly when another glass of wine was placed at Mathew's elbow.

"That reminds me, Mathew, question for you." Sebastian said, cutting into his steak.

"Yes?"

"When you walked in, Angelique got up to meet you, even though I had started to rise. I always thought it was the gentleman's duty -"

"Not in that case. You both felt me, Angelique is your teacher, and older, therefore; she went to meet any challenge. If I had been here, you still would have been pushed back. Only if you'd already accepted a Challenge would we have been forced to stand aside."

"So, there is a protocol of sorts in Challenges and meeting them?" David asked.

"The Rules? They always exist." Sebastian said, with a shrug.

"There can be only one. No fighting on Holy Ground – or rather, do not attempt to take a head on holy ground. One on one once a challenge has been made. Guns are really not allowed, but some idiots try." Angelique rattled off spearing a piece of potato and nibbling on it.

"And with our line things get a bit more intricate. Teacher will meet challenge before student. Its ingrained from teaching them. If the challenge was made before intercession can happen, the teacher will stand and watch the fight. If the student falls, the teacher will have next bout." Mathew said, picking up the wine and sampling it. He nodded his approval and quietly nudged another piece of bread towards Angelique.

"So that thing today, will his teacher be showing up?"

Angelique shook her head, mouth full as she reached for the wine glass. Sebastian spoke up, "Can't. Whoever Maximus' Teacher was, he's dead. Bad quickening."

"Not only that, but the extra rules this line operates by does not apply to other Immortals. Besides, Max never gave his teacher's name." Mathew said with a shrug and a careful look at Angelique.

"I'm not going digging tonight, Mathew. I'm not that young."

"Had to check."

Angelique made a face. Sebastian chuckled, then yelped and glared at his sister. Angelique smiled and saluted the blonde with her glass.

"So, Sebby said you make swords, Angelique?"

"Yes, I'm sword smith for the Bride Forge at the museum." She masked her smile at her student's nickname. She watched Sebastian flush but smile.

"Henry came home awed by your handling of 'this really huge sword' I quote. You 'swung it over your head and everything, it was so cool!' ".

"Five foot long, great sword. Duller than a butter knife. Its never seen a sharpening stone in its life. One of his classmates said a girl couldn't handle it, so I got up, pulled it off the wall and did a few of the showier moves with it. It may not be sharp, but in the right hands, even a dull practice blade can sing."

"So that's what that was about. I'd wondered."

"If I draw a functional blade around children it does not go farther than leaning against my shoulder. Which I did when Sebastian showed up. I felt him coming and my first reaction was to go for a sharp blade."

"You covered it well. I didn't realize it was sharpened until Sebastian spoke. You turned slightly and the light of the forge ran across a honed edge." David commented.

"We've had enough practice at it, to seem casual about drawing the real thing." Mathew said with a slight smile.

"So, Lilly, what do you do?" Angelique asked, forcibly steering the conversation away from Immortals.

"Stay at home Mom. I crochet, bake, the usual stuff. I still make Sebastian's favorite lemon cookies."

"I can tat lace still, embroider, but with the calluses on my hands, fine work has gone out the window. It was expected of a woman when I was growing up. I can still probably put a five course meal on the table with enough time and help though."

"Sebby was always raving about this orange glazed dove thing you did, when I was growing up. We'd do orange glazed chicken. I remember the time he forgot about the glaze and set off the smoke detector."

Angelique laughed and watched Sebastian blush to the roots of his hair. She decided she'd have to get the full story later. She also smiled fondly at the mention of the orange glazed doves.

"I would have used chicken with the glaze, but with the war everything was overly expensive. We stretched and made due with what we had. The mourning doves were stupid enough to sit on my windowsill. I made use of a necessity."

"Wait, you caught them off the windowsill? They weren't bought?" Sebastian spluttered.

"You weren't asking when you were eating. I just made certain it wasn't a messenger pigeon before offing them. Well, one of them was... but the little swastika engraved on the band meant the message went to the nearest allied post and the bird into the stew pot. We all did our part. Yours just happened to be eating a German pigeon."

Dinner after that devolved into conversations on history from those that were there, telling stories, and the Immortals picking on each other with Sebastian gently teasing his sister now and again. By the time dinner broke up Angelique had almost forgotten the fact she had taken a quickening that morning.

* * *

Author's Notes : Crow Peak Brewery exists. Its a South Dakota 30 barrel brewery in Spearfish. They opened in 2007. I'm fudging the dates slightly and starting them up a year earlier. The porter listed is one of their signatures. And yes, it is called Pile O' Dirt.

Some bits are patterned off a specific city, the city of Deadwood, SD. Certain parts of the city are built on an old graveyard... and they really didn't get all the bodies out. So, in certain neighborhoods it would be entirely likely to find the coroner's phone number and the State Historical Society number tacked to the fridge or by the phone. Just in case you do find a body when digging a new sewer line or putting in fiber optic cable. This is my factual basis for putting Angelique's house and neighborhood on an old cemetery.


	8. If I Die Young

Chapter Eight : If I Die Young

Angelique allowed Sebastian to drive her home, curled up in the back seat of his vehicle, while Matthew took the front. She called out directions, sighing when she felt Holy Ground welcome her as soon as they turned onto Vetter Drive.

"Seb, its the Victorian on the right here. Park either on the street or pull in behind the FBI car. You both felt when we set foot on Holy Ground. This entire block and the block over are. It was built on an old cemetery."

"You always do find interesting places, Cousin." Matthew said as Sebastian shut off the vehicle and they all climbed out. Angelique waited while Matthew retrieved his sword from the FBI sedan.

"It sounds like your partner listened. I hear Skylar baying at the door." Angelique said taking the main stairs easily and letting herself in, the other two Immortals following behind. The sound of barking was muffled. She went to the laundry room, and popped the door open, blocking it with her body, so that the pit bull mix met her mistress first.

"Hello my girl. Yes, people are here. I know, I know. You want to say hi, don'tcha?" Angelique baby talked the dog for a bit as the brindle animal whined and whimpered, wiggling and licking enthusiastically. Angelique waited for the dog to calm down before she took a hold of the collar and turned to Sebastian, who was waiting patiently for the introduction.

"Sebastian, this is Skylar. She's about two years old near as the shelter can tell. Skylar? _Ami. Ami. _Go ahead and let her get your scent."

"You trained her in French?" Sebastian asked, holding out a hand in a loose fist, expecting the licking he received once the dog had his scent.

"Of course. If I'm home she will not be on guard until I go to bed. If you've been introduced as 'friend' she may whine and sniff at you when you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but it won't be full scale baying to wake the dead."

"Makes sense." Matthew said after being introduced to the dog who was now whimpering in excitement, but remaining on all fours, only, he suspected, due to the fact that Angelique held the collar.

The sound of cautious footsteps on the stairs to the second story caused Matthew and Sebastian to turn. Angelique looked up as well, with a friendly smile.

"Rachel Thomlin, I'd like to introduce you to Angelique." Matthew said, nodding to the red haired woman that appeared no more than twenty.

"You'd know me as Du Orleans, I'm going by Raven-Leon. I'd shake your hand, but, well, Skylar." Angelique said with a half shrug as she controlled the happy dog. She then went through the same introduction with Rachel as she had with the men. She then let go of the dog who went trotting off through the house.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I want to say now, I stayed out of your bedroom." Rachel said with a cheerful grin that lit her hazel eyes, which caused Angelique to laugh.

"Matthew, I like her already. My last watcher before the new kid? I came home one day and he was in the middle of my bedroom going through my lingerie. Skylar was baying to the gods, so I knew somebody was in the house. I left her in the laundry, and did a room by room. Stabbed him in the ass, and threw him out of the house bodily. I was pissed. The Watchers nearly verbally tripped over themselves to apologize for his behavior. Today the new kid showed up."

"Its all over headquarters. They released a organization wide memo. And I quote, 'stay out of your Immortal's bedrooms or they may just take offense and stab you in the ass, literally.'

"Well, strange man, in my room, pawing through my intimate apparel. Yes, I'm going to be offended. Not even I am a saint. Idiot." Angelique said with a simple shrug.

"Hell, I think any woman would do the same." Sebastian said. The three immortals dissolved into giggles briefly.

"I really don't think the contents of my underwear drawer need to be in my Chronicles. Though, that probably got the notation of 'defends her privacy'." She sniggered again at the thought.

"Though, that does remind me. Rachel, I'm certain you noticed the lock boxes in each bedroom."

"Yes, why are they there?"

"Weapons. Some of the Immortals I call friends do occasionally carry firearms for personal protection, against mortals. For some reason, idiots don't seem to realize how deadly we are with swords. Matthew, I don't begrudge you your sword, or even a dagger. However; I will ask you to surrender your main gun and back up into your Watcher's keeping."

"Understandable, and agreeable." Matthew said, stripping himself of a 9 mm Browning and a .45, which he handed to his Watcher without qualm.

"Okay?" Rachel said, taking both weapons from the Immortal, but confused.

"This entire neighborhood is on Holy Ground. It means we won't try to behead each other on this ground. However; I don't put it past somebody to try and shoot someone else and drag them off to finish the job. Locking up the guns prevents that from being a possibility." She watched the Watcher bristle at the implied slight.

"Easy Rachel. I would have asked the same thing in my home as well. Expecting treachery keeps you alive."

"I'd rather slight him by implying he would than assuming he wouldn't and losing my head for it." Sebastian said with a shrug, as pragmatic as his teacher in that respect.

"I'm betting you picked out rooms for yourself and Matthew, already?"

"If that's all right with you?"

"Fine by me. If you didn't take the corner room that overlooks the back yard, Sebastian, that one is yours."

"I leave for nearly sixty years and you are still dictating, why me?" The grin was cheerful and the complaint was familiar and teasing.

"Your other choice is a twin bed, unless you really don't want the full size ..." She shot back with a grin.

"Corner room, yes ma'am." Sebastian said with a laugh, hands raised in surrender.

"Get settled in then, it'll give me a bit to change. I'll take you down to the training room after." Angelique said, stepping past the collection of people and into the kitchen to flip on the lights. She listened to the trio of people troop up the main stairs and then ducked through a door that opened onto a set of servant's stairs.

Angelique lay her sword across her queen sized bed in easy reach before she undid the buttons on her blouse and slipped out of her skirt. Both pieces went over the back of a convenient wing chair, and she set herself down on the chair to take off her shoes and peel off the stockings she wore before wiggling out of the slip. She changed into a gray sports bra, a pair of cut off gray sweat pants she'd turned into shorts and then pulled on a green tee she'd cut the neck out of. She gathered the tee, and then tied it tight with a knot at her right hip. She slipped into the adjoining master bath to grab a pair of hair ties and a few bobby pins. The silver Celtic cross came off as she walked out of the bathroom. It was laid on her bedside table as she scooped up the sword one handed and padded barefoot out her bedroom door.

She rapped on the door frame and Sebastian turned to her, sword in hand. She watched him do a double take. She just smiled.

"You look like some college student, or dancer."

"Ease of movement. Not much to get caught on a blade or point. And I know I'm going to be sweating pretty hard before I'm done. Besides, you remember that day in '48 where we were both still hung over and drunk on top of it?"

"The day I puked all over the ballroom floor, you slipped on it, and still managed to disarm me? That one?" His nose wrinkled at the memory that still made him queasy.

"That one. At least the lesson stuck. You have to be able to fight, even drunk, hung over, hurting, or insane with grief or pain. I've not had enough to be drunk, but I've had enough to dull the grief enough. I don't expect anyone to be puking on my floor tonight though. Bleeding? That's another story."

"That just sounds disgusting." Rachel said from her doorway. Angelique just inclined her dark head in acknowledgment.

"Not exactly my finest teaching tool, but I knew the risk when I kicked him in the stomach. We didn't pause to clean it up, he maneuvered me back onto that section of ground, I tried to skirt, literally put my foot in it at a bad moment and used a desperation counter that sent his sword flying as I landed on my ass."

"And then you made me clean it up while you took a shower."

"Sebastian? She was puking her own guts out in the shower while you cleaned. You told me about that one, Cousin."

"And I haven't gotten drunk like that since, for that reason." Angelique said as she turned easily to face Matthew. She then motioned towards the stairs.

"I didn't hear you come up them." Matthew said as he started to descend and then sidestepped as Skylar suddenly barreled up them, doggy grin stretching her lips. Angelique merely scratched the dog behind the ears and continued on her way down as the dog continued up the stairs.

"There is a set of servants stairs off the kitchen. I used them. I usually do. Most people don't know the house well enough to know that those are there. Rather a nasty surprise to my last Watcher for that very reason. And Skylar runs up the stairs, found it safer to just use the others."

"I've looked at your Chronicles on occasion, since you've crossed paths with Matthew once before, amicable meet and part the first time, so its just a footnote. When I found out who your teacher was, it made a bit more sense why you dropped in on him two years later, when he was training Nick Wolfe."

"And nearly gave Nick a heart attack. Of course, you weren't too happy to see me, either, Cousin."

"I thanked you afterward for showing Nick exactly what to expect, though you'd have thought he'd have picked that up with Amanda."

"Amanda is more of an acrobat a than heads on fight type of gal. He's flying on his own now?" Angelique asked as she stepped into the kitchen and walked over to what should have been the pantry. She opened the door and walked to the paneled back wall, where cases of soda and cans were stacked against the wall.

"Yes, um why are you in the pantry?"

"Sebastian? This trigger is the same as the one in Paris. Open it for me?" Angelique said, stepping out of the pantry and directing her student inside. She waited with a simple smile as Sebastian ran his hands carefully over the wood, then nodded when she heard the faint click and a section of the paneling swung away from them.

"Okay, nobody knew about that one. Neat." Rachel said, peering at the opening. Angelique pressed on another knothole in the wood and started down the set of stairs that was suddenly illuminated.

"Step over the case of soda please. I leave it as is so that people didn't realize I had a custom built sparring space below."

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"If I have a home gym above, what would I need with a basement below with hardwood floors, mirrored wall, a barre and several racks of swords?"

"Good point. Not to mention it would drive another Immortal batty if they could sense but not find. We know that you had this place built in 1910. I will respect your privacy and not mention this in my reports. It wouldn't surprise me any if Matthew had something similar in one of his old homes..."

"All right, Seb and Rachel, get behind that half wall over there please. You can sit at the bar and watch. The half wall will keep us from accidentally blundering into you. Don't give me that look Matthew, I'm remembering Wolfe driving me into a mirror because he was so focused on taking my blade he forgot his space restraints." She smiled slightly when Matthew winced.

"This is beautiful, and wow are there a lot of swords here." Rachel said as she looked around the cavernous room. Ten foot ceilings with recessed lights meant that the room was dug deeper than a normal basement. The floor was a rich soft gold, native pine with a coat of protective lacquer and wax. The east wall was mirrored along the length, with a ballet barre bolted to the end. The other walls were white and mounted with pegs. Swords lined the northern, western, and southern walls. There were no windows.

"Every blade on the wall here is a fallen opponent. The matched crossed set of rapiers on the south wall behind the bar is one opponent, not two. He was a bit devious."

So there are a total of …." she trailed off as she twisted around and counted up swords,"Thirty blades on the walls. Wow."

"The true total is somewhere around fifty five. Some of the blades were true junk, others were so evil I just left the sword where it lay and walked away." She slid her blade free from its sheath and then lightly tossed the sheath towards her former student, who caught it handily. She was focused on Matthew as he borrowed the bottom step to pull his shoes and socks off. His sport jacket and tie also came off, so he stood in a white business shirt and gray slacks. Matthew followed her lead, and smiled slightly as she walked backwards to the center of the floor and lifted her naked blade in salute.

He closed without a word, steel ringing on steel. She pivoted left when he thrust and then leapt back cat quick when the thrust morphed into a slash mid-swing. She admired the twin falcons that adorned the pommel and ducked when the blade reversed along his arm and he battered at her with the pommel, giving her an up close look. She grinned as she slashed, watching him suck in a breath and contort to avoid the tip that still sliced through his shirt. The shirt didn't redden, so she knew she hadn't hit skin. Steel then rang again as she backed up, soft footing her way backwards across the floor, trying to draw him with her. He went. She suddenly rushed and struck hard, shoving five inches of steel through his heart. Rachel screamed. She stepped back, drawing the sword with her, he went to his knees, gasping for breath and choking on blood. She gently laid her sword across his throat and then deliberately took a handful of steps more back and dropped to her knees to wait as he died, sword settled across her bare thighs. She caught the bar rag that Sebastian automatically tossed at her. She wiped the blood from her blade and flung the bloodied cloth back.

"Seb?"

"He followed you when you were leading him. He forgets you spar hard, I would guess." Sebastian answered automatically, since it was still a habit for his teacher to ask what had been done wrong. She didn't take her eyes off Matthew's body which was slumped to the side.

"Why did you lay your sword to his throat? He was already dead from the stab." Rachel asked, composing herself, but fear still laced her voice.

"To remind him, even if we are on holy ground, the next strike would have taken his head. The move is also ingrained in the teachings. The finishing move is always to take the head." Sebastian answered as his teacher smoothly got to her feet as Matthew gasped in a breath.

"It won't be permanent for either of us, Rachel. I suspect he'll kill me a few times before I swap partners." Angelique said, standing with blade at rest against her right side as Matthew scrabbled for his blade and surged to his feet. Angelique then threw herself backwards to avoid that first vicious swing.

She tumbled across the floor, sword clattering on the wood as she gained distance and her feet. She swung up in a parry trying to slide the strike along her blade even as Matthew closed again, now sparring in truth. She faded from under his blade and attempted to circle left, only to be cut off by a swing aimed for her torso. She backed up and blocked then cut again, eyes focused on his hands and hazel eyes. She sucked in a sudden breath when his broadsword sliced across her arm, leaving a trail of blood. She backed up, knowing she was coming up on the northern wall. She lashed out with a kick, which opened just enough room to follow with an unbalanced thrust. She over extended and Matthew knocked her feet out from under her and placed his sword to her throat. Her sword was at his groin. She pressed lightly, just to get his attention.

"He cornered you, you tried a desperation counter, it failed." Sebastian called from the bar as Matthew withdrew his blade and nodded as he offered a hand up. They both returned to the center of the room.

"What would have been better?" Matthew asked as he lifted his sword again, then paused to wait for the answer.

"If she'd risked being stabbed by stabbing you. You would have fallen back and she would have had room."

Angelique nodded at the answer, "Yet, I had my blade to his groin. If I'd thrust up, as he swung back to take the final strike, I would have disabled him for a few seconds, enough to turn the tables." She then lunged, hoping to catch Matthew off guard. He blocked easily and they started again. Both heard Sebastian suck in a surprised breath at that statement.

"Isn't that rather dishonest?" Rachel called as they broke apart and started circling.

"Matthew outweighs me by what, thirty or forty pounds? He's got an inch on me. He uses a heavier blade." They closed clashed briefly, then came apart again, "When you are fighting for your life, honorable goes out the window. Hey, if its not severed from the body, it'll heal. I didn't actually follow through on the move, just showed him where I was."

"For a woman, treachery has to be the same as breathing. Besides, she trained with Max for a while. Winning was all that mattered." He twisted out from a slash, lessening the impact as he started to bleed. Angelique's shirt was torn and bloodied from a slash that also destroyed the sports bra beneath. They broke and circled again.

"Most of my opponents are going to outweigh me. Their blades are going to weigh more. Its the reason I, and most other female immortals, don't use the heavy swords, we tend to go lighter and more flexible. And we are brutal in a fight." She closed again, then gasped as Matthew's sword was suddenly _there._ She gasped again and crumpled to her knees. As her vision dimmed, she saw Matthew stepping back.

She came back with a sharp gasp, feeling the thrust that had killed her, then the slash she had taken across her chest. She shoved herself to her feet, wobbly, but ready as she swung her blade up again. Sebastian stood across from her, barefoot and waiting. She realized that they had changed out on their own.

"Ready, teacher mine?"

"As always." Angelique said, her legs rapidly running towards stable. They closed. She watched his hands and eyes even as his mouth twisted into a grimace and he made a tentative thrust which she easily avoided, then paid back with a thrust that twisted against muscle even as she withdrew the blade from his gut. He stumbled back, blade automatically going up to ward off a strike as his left hand came off the blade and protected his wounded side.

She went again for the same side, he slapped her sword away, opening himself for a circling thrust, which she delivered shallow and then stepped back, headed for the east wall. He followed for a step then halted, giving her distance and not falling for what he thought was a trap.

Angelique held her sword in her right hand, her left was behind her back as she skirted the wall, plucking a ring hilt dagger from its place in a sheath. She closed again, second blade held behind her back. She stabbed, sidestepped a slash, and then brought the dagger into play. She saw his eyes widen at the sudden appearance of a second blade. She smiled, feinted with the dagger, which he automatically tried to block, so she laid his left arm open with the point of her sword, reminding him both her hands were lethal. She backed off to give him time to heal, and spun the dagger in one hand, changing her grip.

"Where'd that –?"

"The wall. She plucked it when he stopped following her. She lived through the 16th century. So she probably learned rapier and dagger." Matthew answered lowly, and she let his voice drift over her, focused on Sebastian.

He twisted his grip and closed, accepting the fact that there was blood on the hilt of his blade as he brought his left hand back to bear. He closed, thrust and caught her in the right shoulder. She shoved the dagger into chest as she forced herself a step forward and to the side, driving the sword deeper. She watched his eyes dim and gasped as his hands went slack on the blade.

She used her left hand to support the sword in her shoulder as she stepped back, her own blade held only by sheer will. She let him crumple, dead at her feet as she staggered back another step, then used her left hand on the bare blade and yanked it loose, slicing her own hand open in the process. She lay the bloodied blade down, and then backed another three steps to drop to her knees, her sword chiming on the floor. She then tipped over, life dimming as she realized the blade had slipped on entry and had nicked her heart when he let go.

When Angelique came to again, her sword was sheathed next to her. Matthew and Sebastian knelt on either side of her, and the dagger had been returned to the wall. "That is why-" she gasped and coughed, grabbing her shirt as she coughed up clear fluid, "you never take your mind off the fact that-" she hacked again, "an opponent has two in hand."

"She's right. She would have revived before you with the dagger still inside. She would have taken your head."

"You never showed me that."

"I probably went for it because I never did. It was something Max drilled me in until I could do it in my sleep. He taught me how to kill him a few different ways, even when I would have to take a strike that would cripple. Matthew was right, women cannot fight "fair" much of the time. I don't usually carry a dagger anymore. Besides, most of our opponents don't either." Angelique said as she pushed herself to her feet. She swayed a bit but headed for the bar and the mini fridge.

Rachel handed her a bottle of water, which she cracked open and drained. She set her sword on the bar as Matthew asked,"Where do you keep the cleaning supplies?"

"Door under the stairs. There's also a small sink in there for a quick wash up." Angelique dropped the empty plastic bottle in the trash and pulled off her ruined shirt. She walked over to the mirrored wall and realized that the sports bra only had a slash and a stab through it, for the most part it was holding, even if it was soaked through with blood. She crumpled up the shirt and used it to wipe off her bloody left hand and then start mopping up some of the blood on the floor.

By the time the room was back in order she'd wiped off the worst of the blood on her flesh with a wet bar towel and had pulled on a clean gray tee. The blood spatter on her shorts didn't bother her too much, it would wash out for the most part. The guys had done the same, pulling on the extra large gray tees she kept stored with the cleaning supplies. All three swords were cleaned and checked for damage, and all came up fine. Only then did the trio of Immortals and the slightly awed and queasyWatcher head up the stairs for showers and bed.

"You know, I don't think I'm ever going to get used to the idea that sparring means you killing one another." Rachel commented as Angelique hit the knot that closed the panel behind her, then hit the one that shut off the lights.

"We're all fully trained, Rachel. And we all know we are on Holy Ground. Makes us better when its for real though. Fighting past pain means inflicting it readily."

"Besides, Seb won't make the mistake of forgetting about a second blade for a while." Angelique said as she absently scratched Skylar behind the ears. "Well, I'm for a shower and bed. Skylar will be loose in the house. And I plan to run in the morning. I'll leave notes on your doors. Sleep well."

Angelique closed her bedroom door, dropped her sword on the bed, and stripped off her clothes as she headed for the bathroom, hopping slightly as she got her shorts and underthings off. She backtracked after tossing the clothes in the hamper to retrieve her sword, realizing she was more tired than she thought if she was leaving the blade behind. She dropped the baldric over a towel hook on the back of the door.

She took a fast shower to scrub off the remainder of the drying blood and scrubbed her hair repeatedly before she felt it was sufficiently clean. She toweled off, combed and braided her wet hair, then slipped into blue fleece pants and a cut out necked tee. She fell into bed with her sword propped against the nightstand, she was more than ready for sleep.

* * *

Author's Note : I've had The Band Perry's _If I Die Young_ in my head while writing this chapter... no clue why either. Seems to fit though.


	9. What Are the Odds

Chapter Nine : What are the Odds

Angelique slapped off the annoying whine of her bedside alarm and then forced herself upright. She peered at the clock, grumbled slightly for the time, but pushed herself out of bed and towards the bathroom. She used the facilities, brushed her teeth, and popped a multivitamin out of habit. She then dropped her night clothes in the hamper and padded towards a low table set in the western corner of her room.

Angelique went to her knees easily, sword laid behind her but in easy reach. Her fingers were deft as she struck the match to light the heather laced lavender incense. The same match lit the pair of red candles that stood on either side of a Bride's Cross cast in glittering gold wire, and then dipped to light the white votive that sat in a brass bowl. She sank back on her heels, ignoring the bite of the wooden floor against her bare knees as she shook out the match and then closed her eyes. The meditation technique was simple, circular breaths, open your eyes, and focus on the flame. She let her mind go blank, centuries of doing this daily made it easy. In through the nose, out through the mouth, focus on the flame and let the questions rise.

_Who are you? _

"Angelique Du Orleans, Angelique Raven-Leon, Angel Orleans, Selena Raven-Leon, I am me. And may I never forget it."

_What are you?_

"I am Immortal. I was born in France in 1401. I still walk the earth."

_What are you?_

"I am strong. I trust my skill and respect that of any opponent I may face. And may I never forget it."

_Are you capable of killing?_

"In defense of my life, my students' lives, and to protect the helpless. I swear it on all that I am."

_Who are you?_

"I am the Angel of Orleans. I am Angelique Raven-Leon. Angelique Du Orleans. May I never forget it."

With the last word she rose, carefully blowing out the candles and stubbing out the incense. She scooped up her blade, nodded respectfully to the shrine and then turned away to get dressed. She knew that Matthew did something similar every morning. She had taught Gwenna and Sebastian the same. It kept them who they were, even in the middle of a quickening. The other personality had no chance against a daily repetition that had been going on for centuries. She preferred to do hers before a home altar, she knew Matthew sat on his bed in a lotus position, sword across his knees. Sebastian said his with a rosary between his fingers, using the beads for the questions, and the more traditional prayers.

She pulled on a warm pair of gray socks, and a set of blue sweats. She slipped on the Celtic Cross and dropped it under her shirt. She scribbled out three notes, stuck each under the clip that was on each door, and then slipped down the servant's stairs. In the kitchen she shrugged into the light reflective windbreaker, zipped it up, then buckled on the double machete rig that she took running. She tugged on a ski cap, slipped into her running shoes and tugged on the red fingerless gloves. She snagged the house key she kept on a lanyard and dropped it over her head before she slipped out the door and locked it behind her.

When she got back, dripping with sweat a half hour later, the house glowed with lights and the scent of coffee. She knew she woke both Immortals with her Presence as she let herself in, that is if they were still asleep. Rachel smiled and held a finger to her lips. Angelique just smiled and shrugged as she nodded to Matthew who stood, sock footed and sword in hand behind his partner on the servant's stairs.

She held Max's wrapped claymore in one hand, and walked by him, rig riding easy as she went up the stairs to take a quick shower. The claymore, sheathed and wrapped was tucked under her bed on her way to the bathroom.

By the time she got out, the other Presence that had been on the floor with her was on a lower floor. By the time she had dried her hair and combed it out, she was ready for a cup of coffee and a day at the forge. She dressed for the day in a broken in pair of faded blue jeans, fresh socks and topped the ensemble off with a black long sleeved Bride Forge Tee. She shrugged into the back-carry baldric, adjusted the closure slightly and felt ready for the day. She took the rig and jacket back down with her and hung both near the door. She fed Skylar, scratched the dog behind her ears and took the fresh cup of coffee that Sebastian held out to her.

"If you guys need to steal my office or even the dining room for work, go for it. My phone lines qualify as secure by _anybody's_ standards. Skylar will be with me today. I'm headed into the Forge. Sounds like I might have to do a local interview with the paper."

"Okay, do you want to meet me for lunch?"

"Clancy's is a nice little diner, block from the museum. Have good burgers, okay sandwiches and killer pie. But I expect you'd be hanging out with Lilly today."

"In the afternoon yes, I'm going to head down stairs and run drills after coffee. If I don't move from here, my Watcher doesn't have to scramble to follow me. I think Rachel is doing triple duty right now." Sebastian raised an eyebrow, and then smirked when Angelique finally took a sip of her coffee.

"Good - shit Seb, this is military strength." Her eyes briefly watered at the sheer strength of the brew, but she managed not to choke on it. He just grinned and lifted his own cup. "Brat. I'll get you back for this, you know it."

"Yeah, but it was worth it." Sebastian said with a grin.

Angelique doctored her coffee with sugar to make it bearable and easily stepped around Matthew to get at the toaster. She and Matthew or she and Sebastian could move around one another without thinking. Spending a few days or weeks with a person, as had been the case when Matthew was training Nick. She heard the scratching of a pen on paper and glanced over at Rachel who was seated at the breakfast nook, glaring at her pen. Angelique walked over to where the phone sat on the wall and dug out a pen she knew worked from the cracked mug of pens and tossed it next to her. The Watcher looked up, startled.

"How is it that all three of you can dance around one another without seemingly getting in each other's way?"

"I'm guessing they missed the fact I spent three weeks with you, helping with Nick?" Angelique asked, and Matthew simply nodded.

"So, if you've spent some time together, you know each other to some degree?" Rachel asked, eyes lighting up and hand furiously moving. Angelique expected there to suddenly be a cross-reference note between her chronicle and Matthew's about spending three weeks during Nick Wolfe's training period.

"We can make breakfast around one another at least. I'm just glad Sebastian and Matthew have some coordination with one another. Up until this point..."

"Gotcha." Angelique hid a smile and snagged the cherry preserves out of the fridge along with a knife as her whole wheat toast popped. She easily slipped into a gap left by both male Immortals slathered the pieces of toast, cut them in half and slipped back out of the way. She sat down next to Rachel and started eating.

"So, are you Watching all three of us right now?"

"As you put it, Sebastian, why make your Watcher scramble? I'm in house. And, the Council is actually giddy about that fact. We're usually not this close to daily routine."

"True, unless you end up sleeping with a Watcher, your records don't get too detailed." Angelique said with a glance at Matthew.

"Fitzcairn did I'm pretty sure." Matthew retorted and Angelique almost choked on her coffee. She managed not to spit scalding liquid on the Watcher's notes, and then cracked up laughing.

"He would have! I swear the only reason he didn't try with me is I threatened to castrate him as soon as I knew his name." This time Sebastian choked on his coffee and Mathew helpfully pounded on his back.

"Seb, Fitzcairn was... a rake of the best sort. Every female Immortal knew his name at minimum. Some got involved with him, others steered clear." She drained her coffee cup, finished off the last little bit of her toast, and rinsed off both cup and plate before depositing them in the dishwasher.

"So, meet you for lunch, teacher mine?"

"Yes. I'll see you at 12:15 at Clancy's." Angelique agreed, as she pulled her hiking boots on, tied them and then stamp tested before pulling on her jacket, then cursing, wiggling out of the jacket and then the baldric, then yanked on the coat, followed by the baldric. She whistled for the dog, clipped her leash to the collar and sailed out the door.

x X x

The museum staff was used to Skylar, so friendly pets and scratches were passed around as Angelique eased through the Thursday Morning Meeting crowd. She leaned against the wall, hand signaled Skylar to lie down and then waited for Mr. Ashley to do a head count and call everyone to order. She only blinked when he moved over to her and whispered a quick question.

"Do you want to tell them now, as a group?"

"Might as well." She muttered back, straightening from her slouch and shoved her sleeves back, this was going to get messy.

"All right everyone, morning meeting. There is only one thing on the agenda for today. Ms. Raven-Leon, the floor is yours." With that Mr. Ashley turned the entire room's attention over to her.

"I've been working with all of you for three months now. I know most of you to some degree. I replaced Mr. Kellerman as the smith at the forge here. I taught his grandfather the craft, and he taught his grandson. There is no easy way for me to say this, so, here goes nothing?" She asked as she slipped off the baldric and drew the sword with her right hand, easily slipping the baldric back on.

"I am Immortal, I was born in Orleans, France in 1401, and I cannot die." She braced herself and then grabbed the sword blade and yanked up with a hiss. Blood poured down the sword blade as she lifted her hand away, turning it over so that the crowd could watch her hand heal. The lighting blazed across her hand, repairing the twin gashes she'd made in her palm. She grimaced slightly, clutched her bloodied blade and then walked through the silence to the sink.

"Paul, would you mind turning on the water for me? Hands are kinda full." She asked quietly, and the maintenance man blinked, then opened the cold water tap. She shoved her hand under the water, shook it off, rinsed again, shook it a second time and then reached for a paper towel. She wasn't going ground the bloodied blade just yet. She turned back to the crowd, and wiped off the blade, checked it almost absently, and then sheathed it.

"Any questions?" She felt, for a moment, like the old Partnership for a Drug-Free America commercial about brains on drugs.

"Didn't that hurt?"

"Yeah it did. Don't have full use of the hand just yet, kinda sliced through a few tendons." She said as she could feel the quickening working internally to fix the muscle and tendons, her hand was curled into a loose fist as it healed.

"1401? So your …. how old?" Somebody else called out.

"604 for a few more days."

"So wait, you weren't shitting us about the 27th being your birthday?"

"Its as close as can be figured, Josh. It was 1401 for crying out loud." Angelique said with a grin as she flexed her hand, then grimaced. She had always noticed that if she wasn't being threatened with losing her head, her healing seemed to take a bit longer.

"How many others like you have you killed?"

"I think the Watcher's last count for me was somewhere in the fifties. And that's fifty something over six hundred years."

"Do you know Duncan MacLeod?"

"Yes I do. I have some business dealings with him."

"What about the really old guy, that Mytho one?"

"Methos? A legend, even among us. I'm not sure he ever really existed."

"So, whose the oldest you know?"

"My teacher's teacher. I am of the line of Marcus Constantine."

"How'd you die the first time?"

"She won't answer that one. Or who her teacher is." Samuel said from the doorway, leaning against the door jamb, his heavier blue winter coat hooked over one finger and held over his shoulder.

"How would you know that?" The same voice asked.

"He's my Watcher. He probably knows my history better than even my teacher. Or what's recorded of it anyway. And he's right. By only identifying my line, several different Immortals could have been my teacher. And even the Watchers don't know how I died the first time, and I don't plan on telling them. And because I'm still alive, he won't tell you who my teacher was either." She snapped her fingers and Skylar lurched to her feet in typical dog fashion and then trotted over.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a new Gothic Hilt to make today." Angelique threaded her way through the crowd with a nod to Mr. Ashley before she slipped out the door, using her left hand to drag Samuel along with her.

Once they were out of the room, she released Samuel who fell into step beside her. "Sorry about grabbing, but I doubt you want to be stuck in that room with them. They'd grill you for hours."

"Not a problem, thanks. I guess this means you don't mind me?"

"Mind? Kid, I watched you play, I consider you a good person. I checked you as soon as I knew I had a new Watcher. If you'd been somebody like the last guy, I'd have dropped off the radar for a while." She gently pushed the door of the forge open, and walked in, sighing in relief as she let Skylar go. The dog trotted over to a far corner and dropped down on the tan blanket with a happy huff.

"Well, at least Paul added some charcoal to the fire before the meeting. So, what's that?" Angelique asked, nodding to the slim white box in his hands as she hung up her sword.

"Oh, package, addressed to you. No return address. Just for you care of the Forge."

"All right, hand it here." Angelique took the box and set it down on the metal work table carefully peeled away the tape and then shredding the white butchers paper it was wrapped in. When she pried open the cardboard box a wooden box lay underneath. She smiled as she traced the burned in raven and trifoil marking. She flipped open the brass closures on the case and then carefully lifted out a foot long ring dagger, hilt cast to mirror her current sword.

"She does beautiful work." Angelique said as she drew the dagger from a plain black sheath. The dagger twirled in her left hand as she played with it, getting a feel for the heft and balance. "And there's a letter!"

_Dearest Angelique,_

_I hope your birthday finds you safe and well. Consider this a reminder to work on the forms I taught you, as well as a fitting gift. I had the final dimensions of your blade written down to cast the pommel and guard, so I cast this piece for you to match. The sheath is plain black, and will fit comfortably at the small of your back leaning sinister._

_Happy birthday. Remember, hold on to who you are, and watch your head._

_Yours,_

_Teacher_

Angelique smiled at the note, and then passed it across to her Watcher, giving implicit permission for the letter to be copied and included in her chronicles. She then reached up, unhooked part of the baldric from the clasp and threaded on the dagger. She pulled down the entire thing and re-adjusted it from an across the back carry into a standard hip carry, angling the dagger so that it felt natural to reach for it with her left hand as she drew the sword with her right. She then sighed.

"Uh oh, when my mother does that, something's not quite right."

"With my teacher, this is as good as an order. But I was thinking the same myself last night. I took Sebastian by surprise when I pulled the dagger. Not too many fight with a pair of blades anymore. Hell, most of us don't _want_ to fight if we can help it."

"True. Most of you guys are good. If the Gathering does occur..."

"You'll know, because according to myth, we'd go kill crazy all of a sudden." Angelique said with a shake of her head. She bundled off the rest of the paper and set the display case well out of the range of any slag. She then walked over to the gun safe and dialed the combination. She pulled an ordinary three ring binder and laid it on the table as she grabbed a teal permanent marker and a completely metal clipboard.

"What's that?"

"All the drawings and photos of each blade the Museum produces for sale." She flipped through the alphabetized list and stopped on the Gothic Hilt. She then uncapped the marker and listed out all the pertinent details directly onto the clipboard.

**Length : 39.5 inches  
Weight: 2.8 lbs finished**

**Double edged : yes**

**Sharpened : yes**

**total time est : 6 -15 hours**

She then rough sketched the dimensions of the hilt assembly on the back before she closed the book and carefully put it back in the gun safe, then locked it.

"Works better than a chalkboard, and I can't accidentally smudge it either. Alex does the same thing. Her husband gave her the idea after he just wrote directly on the steel one day." Angelique sorted through the various bins, picking up and discarding lengths of metal until she settled on one, which she brought back to the forge. She adjusted her own sword belt absently as she set the blank onto the mostly clear table.

"So, are you going to be sitting on me today? Or are you just wanting to know my basic schedule?"

"From your Chronicles, and what Gramps and Dad were saying... I could just get your general schedule and get out of your way."

"Okay then, Forge, lunch with Sebastian, I'm sure you've had to calm his Watcher down at least once already, interview with the local paper rush job, so I expect a retraction, here at the Forge. Off a bit early, pick up Max, and head home. Sebastian won't mind picking up groceries after lunch for me, I don't think. If not, I'll add shopping to the list. And no, I don't know how long Matthew will be staying."

"That about covers it. Could I ask about sparring? The initial report from Rachel Thomlin kinda unnerved poor Jackson."

"Unnerved him? I ended up dead on the floor more than Seb did. But then, desperation counters are called such for a reason."

"Shit, you were killing each other?" Samuel asked, eyes shocked and mouth agape.

"How else do you learn not to screw up royally when it counts? I was trained hard. Its kept me alive, its kept Matthew alive, it kept our teachers alive. Its messy, its brutal, and it hurts. It also settled the quickening down correctly. And no, before you ask, suiciding after a quickening does _not _ help it settle, that might just have you losing who you are. It was the fight, that rush of adrenaline, heart thundering, your pulse that screams you are alive, you survived, and you know who you are that settles it." Angelique said, and she watched Samuel nod, dazed but somehow understanding.

Then the hairs on the back of her neck rose, the itch raced over her skin, and the whisper of her blade sliding from its sheath cut through any amusing comeback Samuel may have had. She stared fixedly at the door as her Watcher pressed himself into the wall, knowing all the signs.

"Hello? Ms. Raven-Leon? My name is Timothy Dean, reporter for the _Daily-Standard_. I believe we have an interview?"

* * *

Author's Note : I haven't heard from Vega since before the new year, so I have made the decision to forge on ahead without the cross check. I have Vega's original story on hand so I can match dates as needed.

Reviews are appreciated by my readers. If you do not want to post an official review, feel free to message me with it. I promise I do not bite, and I message reviewers or those who PM me back.


End file.
